Growing Pains III: The Spirit of Christmas
by Debbie Kluge
Summary: Story #9 in the Jealousy Series. The aftermath of Benton's illness continues to cause problems for the Quests, but help comes from an unexpected source. **COMPLETE**
1. Part I

**THE REAL ADVENTURES OF JONNY QUEST**

  


Growing Pains III:  
The Spirit of Christmas

By

Debbie Kluge

  
  


Part I

  
_Hark! The herald angels sing,  
"Glory to the newborn King.  
Peace on earth and mercy mild,  
God and sinners reconciled."_

Barbara sighed as the joyful sound reached her. Carolers . . . again. Through the closed door of her office, she could hear her staff greeting the newcomers cheerfully and their laughter just seemed to feed into her general feeling of depression.

_What is wrong with you?_ she demanded of herself with a touch of anger. _You don't sit around and mope like this. You love Christmas. Go out and join Kathy and Nikki . . . say hello to the people who stopped in to wish you happy holidays. They cared enough about you to go to the trouble - the least you can do is thank them!_

But still she sat, staring out the window at the snowflakes that drifted by, unable to rouse the ambition to get out of her chair. It had been snowing gently for the last hour . . . the first real snow of the season. The flakes were large and wet and they were sticking where they fell so that most everything now had a uniform coating of white. It was only about five degrees below freezing, however, so the streets were staying clear and Barbara could hear the joyful sounds of children playing in the snow.

Somehow, time had slipped away from her this year and now here it was, two weeks away from Christmas and she hadn't done anything. Her house wasn't decorated, her tree wasn't up, her baking wasn't done, and she hadn't even started shopping yet.

_Maybe I just won't bother this year,_ she thought suddenly. _It's an awful lot of trouble when there's only me._ That thought conjured memories of earlier days . . . times when her parents were still alive . . . when her brother and sister-in-law were still around. But her parents had died long ago and once they were gone, so was her brother.

_Half brother,_ she reminded herself. _Davis was your half-brother . . . a fact he pointed out frequently during those last couple of years._ Barbara sighed and sat forward, automatically starting to pick up the clutter on her desk. Deep in her heart, she knew what the problem was. Christmas was a time for family . . . something she no longer had. Unfortunately, she had become deeply involved in someone else's family troubles in recent months and she let herself get swept away . . . let herself get too close . . . to care too much. And now she was paying the price.

She needed to find something . . . _do_ something . . . that would snap her out of the mood she'd been in recently. Most of the people around her didn't realize she'd been down, as she'd taken great care not to let it show. But the truth was, the last three months had been tough. Knowing he was going to die -

_"NO!"_ she whispered sharply, jerking as if she had just been burnt. "Don't go there . . . don't even think about it!

_'Or is that the problem?'_ the familiar little voice whispered. _'You're running away . . . refusing to acknowledge the way you feel.'_

"Go away, I know what I'm doing!" she replied.

But the little voice was insidious, just as it had been every day for the last two months. It simply wouldn't leave her alone. _'You need to face it and decide what you want to do.'_

The problem was, she knew _exactly_ what she wanted to do . . . she wanted to go out to his house, walk straight up to him, grab him, and kiss him senseless. But wanting to do it and actually following through . . . well, that was an entirely different matter.

_ 'Tell him.' _

"I'm his doctor. It's not professional."

_'Your feelings for him aren't professional. Tell him.'_

"He's been through too much recently. He doesn't need anything else to worry about."

_'He needs to know someone loves him. Tell him.'_

"He still loves his wife."

_ 'She's been dead for over ten years. Tell him.'_

"And what if he doesn't feel the same?"

_ 'You're a coward . . .'_

Yes. Yes, she was. The idea of losing him entirely was simply more than she could bear.

"We're friends . . . good friends," she whispered to that little voice. "That's enough."

_ 'Is it? Or it that just a lie you tell yourself to avoid dealing with the situation? What do you tell your patients when they feel this way? Physician, heal thyself. Tell him.'_

As if on cue, an elegant dark gray Mercedes sedan rolled to a stop on the street in front of her building. It was perfectly framed in the window of her office, as if the little voice in her head had conjured it up to make her do something about the situation. Sudden panic caught at her as she realized that he was waiting for traffic to clear so he could make a left turn into her office parking lot. He was coming here.

_ I can't face him, _ she thought frantically. _ Not now . . . not like this! _

Leaving everything where it lay, she leaped up, snatched her coat and purse from the rack beside the door, and ran for the back exit into the staff parking lot.

"I had no idea what time it had gotten to be," she said breathlessly to her nurse, Kathy Stephens, as she paused in the doorway to their small, in-house pharmacy. "If I don't leave right now, I'll never get any shopping done! Just leave the patient files on my desk and I'll come in sometime tomorrow and finish."

Kathy laughed. "Go on. I've got a little more to do here and then I'm on my way out, too. You have a great weekend."

"You, too!" Barbara replied and fled out the back just as she heard the bell on the front door jingle. The indistinct sound of his warm, friendly voice was cut off abruptly as she eased the door closed and moved hastily toward her car without a backward glance. A few seconds later and she was out of the parking lot and heading northbound on a narrow residential street that was comfortably out of sight of her office.

_ 'Now what?' her little voice asked her. 'You've run away from him again. Are you going to keep running for the rest of your life?'_

"Shut up!" she snarled.

But one thing was certain. If she was serious about avoiding him, she couldn't stay in Rockport. This was the third time this week that he'd come looking for her, and he was just stubborn enough that when he found he'd missed her again, she was sure he would go searching. And unless she wanted to have the dreaded conversation, she needed to make herself scarce for a while.

"Christmas shopping," she told herself firmly. "Somewhere away from here." 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


Three hours later found her standing on a street corner in downtown Bangor, loaded down with brightly wrapped packages, boxes, and bags. She was also feeling substantially better. Getting out among the cheerful, bustling crowds in the brisk winter air had invigorated her and she could feel her normally cheerful attitude returning.

Shifting her packages slightly, she reached into her coat pocket, searching for her car keys. She groped awkwardly, muttering to herself in vexation as her gloves made the process difficult. She squirmed slightly, trying to shove her hand deeper as the ring of keys slid away from her. Just as she finally found them, her slight movements and gravity combined to cause her load of gifts to slip. Her desperate attempt to save them from falling was thwarted when her hand became tangled in her pocket and she tottered unsteadily, thrown off balance by the shifting weight and her trapped hand. Then, her foot slipped in the wet snow and she fell backwards. She let out a small scream, the packages sailing in all directions, as she tried to brace herself for the fall . . . but it never came. Strong arms caught her around the waist and pulled her into a firm embrace. She came to rest with her back and shoulders pressed against a body she didn't have to see to recognize. She knew his scent by heart. She turned her head to look up at him and he was so close that her breath ruffled the silky red hair of his beard as it brushed against her cheek and temple tantalizingly.

Benton Quest grinned down at her. "Just in time to save the day, I think."

"You certainly were," she agreed breathlessly. "I would have been picking myself up out of the snow if you hadn't been so quick. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He set her carefully on her feet once more and then surveyed the packages strewn at their feet. "Better these than you. Hopefully nothing's broken." He leaned down and began gathering them up.

"I may have to rewrap a few of them, but there was nothing breakable, thank heavens. Here, let me help you with that . . ."

"That's okay. I think I've got them all. Where's your car?"

"Up the block and around the corner," she replied and reached for her keys again. Then she stopped and grinned at him. "No, that's what started the whole problem." She pulled off her glove and retrieved them easily this time, holding them out and shaking them so they jingled cheerfully.

"Ah, the sounds of Christmas," he said with a laugh. "Lead the way and let's get rid of these." They walked up the street quietly for a moment before he added, "You're a hard woman to get hold of these days, you know that?"

The easy camaraderie of the moment before quickly fled, and her laughter felt awkward as she replied, "It's been busy, there's no doubt about that. Must be the season."

"It must be. I ran by your house last night and it was totally dark. You don't even have your decorations up."

"I know. I feel so bad about that, but it seems like there just aren't enough hours in the day any more."

"You're working too hard, Barbara," he said in friendly concern. "You need to back off a little . . . give yourself a break."

"Look who's talking," she replied as she opened her trunk so he could put the gifts inside.

He chuckled as he straightened again. "Pot calling the kettle black? Yes, I know. I'm just as bad as you are, but that means I can recognize the signs. Have you ever considered adding a doctor to your practice? It might help with the workload."

"I've considered it. Well, thank you so much for the rescue, but I won't -"

"You really think I'm going to let you get away from me now that I've finally caught up with you? Not a chance. I just spent the last three hours searching Rockport and the surrounding towns to locate you, and you are now mine for the rest of the day."

"But -"

"No 'buts'. I have it on good authority that you deliberately rearranged your schedule to have this afternoon off so that you could go Christmas shopping. Since that's something that I also need to do, I figure we can brave the crowded shops together. It's much more fun with company and it will give us a chance to talk." Then he cocked his head and looked at her with a suddenly thoughtful expression. "Unless you don't want to spend the time with me . . ."

_ Oh God, if you only knew, _ she thought despairingly, but thankfully her little voice kept its opinions to itself. "Don't be silly! Why wouldn't I want to spend time with you?"

His face cleared and he grinned boyishly at her again. "Good! So is there anything else that you want to get here?"

"No, I think I've exhausted all the stores in the area. Where do you need to go?"

"Actually, I thought we'd run your car back to Rockport and drop it off, and then head for Augusta. There's a shop there that carries specialty baby furniture and I'd like to get Race and Estella a cradle for Emily. There's also that gaming shop that Jonny likes so well."

"All right. I'll take this stuff on home and you can pick me up there."

"Good. We'll just plan to have dinner and make an evening of it."

"It sounds wonderful. I'll see you at my house in about half an hour."

"I'll be there."

As she climbed into her car and started the engine, she considered what she had just agreed to. The idea of spending the evening with Benton Quest threw her into such turmoil that she didn't know if she would be able to focus her attention enough to drive. But there was no getting out of it now. She just had to find a way to cope. 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


"That was wonderful," Barbara said, laying her napkin on the table and leaning back with a contented sigh. "I didn't realize I was that hungry."

"Shopping is hard work," Benton said solemnly, but when her eyes met his, she saw the impish twinkle in them again.

"Oh, absolutely. And we worked _ very_ hard this afternoon," she replied with equal gravity. Then she laughed and reached across the table to lay her hand on his. "But honestly, thank you. I don't think I realized just how much I really needed the break. It's been a delightful afternoon and evening, and I actually think I managed to get everything on my list."

"You're very welcome."

It _ had_ been a wonderful day. For a time, she waited for him to question her about why she'd been avoiding him, but he never did. Instead, the time had been filled with easy laughter, lighthearted conversation, and that growing feeling of good will she had always associated with Christmas. They had gone from store to store, searching for things that both of them wanted and impulse buying when something struck their fancy. They had spent some time in the park in downtown Augusta watching the children's Christmas pageant, and as dusk fell, they walked arm-in-arm along the Festival of Lights avenue - the old Victorian neighborhood not far from downtown Augusta where all the houses were decorated with lights for the holidays. They finished off the day in the best restaurant in town with a leisurely dinner. All in all, things had been just about perfect.

Barbara watched as he toyed with his wineglass, swirling the deep ruby contents as he stared at it with a thoughtful expression. "Actually," he said carefully, "I needed to talk with you about something."

Barbara could feel herself tense immediately. _ Oh no, please. Don't spoil it. _ "Of course. What is it?"

Benton sighed and leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table, but he never took his eyes off of the wine glass. "I need your advice."

"About what?"

Finally, he lifted his gaze to meet hers, and she was struck by the sadness in it. "Jessie." Carefully, he set the glass down and clasped his hands in an almost prayerful gesture. "I don't know what to do to reach her, Barbara, and it's killing me."

She leaned forward and laid her hands on top of his, her tension dissipating instantly in the face of his distress. "Tell me."

"I know she was angry over the business with Jonny. From what I remember, she had a right to be. But ever since I woke up again, I've tried so hard to make it up to both of them. Jonny and I . . . well, it was tough at first. Things were so up and down. One minute we would be fine, and the next, I would say something that struck a nerve and he'd go sullen and defensive . . . But we've worked through most of that. I still talk with him every couple of days and that helps keep us on an even keel. But with Jessie, it's been different. She probably hasn't said a dozen words to me since she returned to the States, and when I make an effort to speak to her, she will go so far as to flatly refuse. I simply don't know what to do any more."

Barbara sighed regretfully, thinking of Race's comment months before about his daughter's tendency to hold a grudge. "How much has come back to you of the time leading up to your collapse, Benton?"

Withdrawing his hands from hers, he gestured vaguely before picking up his wine glass again and taking a sip from it. "It's getting better, but things are still pretty fragmented. I remember the last argument with Jonny and how furious Jessie was, if that's what you mean. You can't imagine -"

"Yes, I can. I was there when she called."

"Called?" He blinked. "You were?"

"Yes. Race and I were with you when the call came through." Seeing his bewildered expression, she prompted, "You do remember that it was on the vidphone in the lab, right?"

Benton frowned, obviously trying to sort through the images in his mind. "Yeeeesss," he said very slowly. Then he shook his head sharply. "No. I guess I don't have any real memory of the setting. It's mainly her face and the words we exchanged. Funny, the images I have of her are so clear, but Jonny . . . I can't seem to envision his face during that argument at all. I just assumed she was in the lab with me . . . that both of them were."

"No," Barbara replied regretfully, "she called on the vidphone from Boston."

"So Jonny wasn't there either?"

"No, which explains why you can't recall any images of him. Neither of them were living at home, and they hadn't been since the previous May. It all happened over the phone. None of us know for certain how Jess found out about your blow-up with Jon, but it's fairly certain she wasn't there at the time it happened."

"How do you know?"

"You talked to him around 7:00 in the morning, but Jessie didn't call until shortly after noon. Her fury was too fresh for it to have simmered for five hours." She shook her head sadly at his bewildered expression. "Race hasn't told you anything about what went on during the time you were ill, has he?"

Benton shook his head, sitting back in his chair and taking a large swallow from his wine glass. "No. At least, no more than he's absolutely had to. When I've asked, he's always told me that the memories will come back in their own good time and there's no need to push them if they aren't ready to surface."

"Up to a point, he's right. But it's also true that if you're worrying at them . . . trying to force them to come back out of a need to deal with their repercussions, and they aren't being cooperative, then you probably do need some help." She watched as he refilled both of their glasses and then continued quietly. "One thing you have to understand, Benton. It took quite a while for any of us to realize there was something wrong with you. The damage Smallwood's chip did was insidious. Initially, you seemed perfectly all right in most respects. The only obvious difference was in the way you were treating Jon. We all knew you were struggling with the idea of him growing up, and when you lessened your emotional hold on Rachel last Christmas . . . well, to be honest, we chalked it all up to a bad case of empty nest syndrome."

Benton nodded. "I can understand that."

"You hadn't been looking very well, but we just assumed that you were working too hard. It wasn't until March, when your interference in Jon's admission to MIT came to light, that warning bells began to go off. But even then we were unsure what to do. Jon withdrew emotionally, and because Jessie was forced to pick a side, she withdrew right along with him. Your attitudes toward each other just kept feeding the problem. Add to it that you kept insisting there was nothing wrong with you and not allowing me to search for a cause, and we had the perfect recipe for disaster."

"And disaster was what we got," he replied resignedly.

"We certainly did." Barbara shook her head sadly. "Benton, throughout all of this, Race and Estella both worried that Jessie would lose her temper with you. Race says she holds grudges. I don't think it's anything she can control . . . it's just her nature."

"Race has a streak of that in him, and so does Estella," Benton acknowledged wearily.

"Yes, and with everything else, your fight with Jon was obviously the last straw. It all came apart. But I honestly believe that it's not irreparable. It's going to take time, yes, but I think that she'll come around eventually."

"How do I prove to her that I'll never let it happen again? Barbara, I _ miss_ her. I don't think I realized how attached I'd become to her until this all happened. She's like a daughter to me and it hurts almost as much to have her estranged as it does my own son."

"I know, but I think you're doing all you can. Jessie may be stubborn, and she may hold a grudge, but she is also eminently fair. Prove to her that it was the illness that caused your behavior and that you'd never willingly hurt Jon again, and she'll come around."

Benton sighed and leaned back in his chair. "God, I hope so."

She contemplated him for a moment. "Are they coming home for Christmas?"

"Jonny says they are . . . unless Jessie finds some reason to beg off. He's been back several times since October, including at Thanksgiving, but Jessie's always found a reason not to come along."

"Then all you can do is keep working at it. I know that she cares about you, Benton. Just give her time and don't push, and eventually she'll forgive you."

He nodded and then drained his glass and set it on the table. "And what about you?" he asked quietly. "Will you ever forgive me for whatever it was I did to you?"

The question caught her totally off guard. In the face of his obvious concern about his kids, she had totally forgotten that she had been trying to avoid the subject of _ their_ relationship. She fumbled around, sputtering and searching for some kind of safe reply, but before she was able to find one, he interrupted her.

"Since the day my family and I moved to this area, you've been a friend. I could always rely on you to give me a straight answer to anything I needed to know, no matter how bad it might be. Please, Barbara, don't stop being honest with me now. Whatever it was, I'm truly sorry, and I'll do whatever it takes to make it right."

Barbara leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table and resting her head in her hands for a long moment. The she exhaled sharply and looked up at him. "It's not you, Benton. You didn't do a thing. It's me. I'm just . . . I don't know . . . off balance, I guess is the best description. I'm trying to come to terms with things, but I'm having a hard time."

"What kind of things?" When she didn't answer immediately, he reached across the table and caught her hand, refusing to release it when she tried to free herself. "Don't pull away from me. We're friends and I don't want to lose that. Tell me what it is that has you so muddled. Maybe, between the two of us, we can figure it out."

She stared down at their linked hands, the pain and desire twisting inside her until her stomach ached. Finally, with nowhere left to run, she decided that she'd start with at least part of the truth and just see where things went.

"We've been friends for a long time," she said slowly, "but I'm not sure I realized how close to your family I'd become until you got sick. It was as if I had a family for the first time since I lost mine. Your illness affected me in ways it shouldn't have . . . as your doctor, I mean," she added hastily when she saw his startled expression. "I lost my objectivity, Benton. I was so desperate to find a solution that I wasn't able to distance myself. And then . . ." She could feel tears rising and she fought against them, as Benton tightened his grip, caressing her arm soothingly with his other hand. It was the last thing she needed right then, but she couldn't pull away without being violent about it, which would only raise further questions. Reaching up she swiped at her eyes and was appalled to find them wet. She cleared her throat and forced herself to continue. "At the end, I - I gave up. When it came right down to it, I sided with Race and supported his push to enforce your living will."

"There was nothing else you could have done," he told her.

"If I'd been more objective -"

"If you'd been more objective," he replied, cutting her off, "I would have been dead long before Jonny managed to figure out the solution. It was your willingness to keep trying that gave him the time he needed. You can't blame yourself for that."

"And then, when he found a way to bring you back . . . and you were . . . I - I didn't know how to feel. I'd already started to grieve, and then there you were, dazed and confused, but so obviously your old self . . . making cracks about Jon's hair, and . . . and . . . Oh _ God_ . . ."

The breakdown she'd been fighting against these last weeks was coming. She could feel it. And she was with him, and out in public . . .

"Let's get out of here," Benton said gruffly. Yanking out his wallet, he threw a handful of bills on the table and rose swiftly, putting an arm around her shoulders and guiding her quickly toward the door. When the maitre'd would have stopped them, Benton waved him off with words she couldn't hear through the roaring in her ears. She felt him throw her coat around her shoulders and then they were out into the cold night air. She heard him speak to someone again, and then he said to her, "Put this on. You're going to freeze." How she managed to hold it together for as long as she did, she really didn't know, but the minute the lights of the restaurant faded, the dam burst and she started to sob uncontrollably.

Benton pulled over, shut the car off hastily, and gathered her into his arms. He held her, crooning nonsensically as the emotional storm peaked and finally passed. Eventually, she was quiet once more, feeling somehow numb and disconnected, as she rested against him with her head on his shoulder.

_ 'Well, at least you finally ended up where you've wanted to be for so long,'_ her irritating little voice said to her.

"Shut up," she muttered to it softly.

"What?"

Horrified at the thought he might have heard her, she pushed away, sat up and tried to wipe her face with her hands.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured in embarrassment as he produced his handkerchief and handed it to her. "You didn't need this."

He reached out and tilted her head up until she looked at him. In the dim light of a nearby streetlight, she could see him smile. "I am not going to break," he told her gently. "You are all trying so hard to protect me, but it really isn't necessary, you know. I'm a lot tougher than you seem to think I am."

"I'm sorry," she repeated and she heard him sigh in exasperation.

"You know, I'm going to forbid everyone I know from using those two words around me ever again. Between the boys, Race and Estella, and now you . . . I swear. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, Barbara. No one knows better than I do the kind of emotional upheaval my youngest son is capable of causing. And when you put him together with his brother . . . well, to say chaos generally ensues is putting it mildly. But I want you to understand something clearly. I am alive today in large part because you cared enough to rally to us when we needed you. I can't begin to imagine the toll this entire mess has taken on you . . . having to play the roll of doctor, friend, advisor, social worker, mediator, and God knows what else during the last year. But I am more grateful than I can possibly express."

She sniffed, blotting her eyes, and forced herself to say, "I - I should recommend a new family physician -"

"No!" he replied sharply, sounding decidedly shaken. "Absolutely not. _ You're_ my doctor and I won't accept anyone else."

"But -"

"I won't hear another word about it, Barbara, so let's just drop it." He smiled at her encouragingly. "Okay?" When she nodded, he put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick hug before turning and starting the car again. "Would you like some coffee before we head back to Rockport?"

She shook her head wearily. "No, I don't think so, Benton. To be honest, I'm absolutely exhausted. I really think I'd rather just go home."

"Home it is," he said agreeably. "Why don't you just relax and see if you can rest on the drive back." He leaned forward and pushed a button, causing the in-dash CD player to light up. After a moment, soft music filled the car and she recognized the soft strains of the jazz of Dave Brubeck. Obediently, she leaned back into the soft seat and before she knew it, she'd dozed off.


	2. Part II

**Part II**

  


The next morning, Barbara was struggling to pull a large box of Christmas decorations down off of the top shelf of her guest closest when she heard a knock on her front door. Grumbling to herself, she shoved the stubborn box back far enough to ensure that it wouldn't fall and then headed downstairs. When she opened the door, she found Benton standing on her front porch. He was dressed in faded blue jeans, a brown bomber-style jacket that had seen better days, and a pair of worn brown boots. Snow dusted his hair and he was carrying what looked to be a white pastry box.

"Good morning!" he greeted her cheerfully as he slipped past her into the house before she could think of a thing to say. Handing her the box with a flourish, he closed the door behind him and shrugged out of his coat. "I come bearing brunch and a willing pair of hands."

"A willing pair of hands for what?" she asked, startled.

"To help put up your Christmas decorations. It's never any fun doing it by yourself." Then he gave her a conspiratorial smile and to her astonishment, he blushed slightly. "Furthermore, I have an ulterior motive."

"And what's that?" she demanded with mock sternness, trying to suppress the laughter that was welling up inside of her.

"I help you with yours and you help me with mine?" he said hopefully. She couldn't help herself. In that instant, he looked so much like his son when she first met him that her laughter simply bubbled over.

"You are hopeless!"

"I know. I think it's a disease that I caught at a very young age."

Still laughing, she gestured for him to follow and led the way to the back of the house. They sat at her kitchen table, sharing coffee and homemade Danish, watching it snow, and laughing companionably in a way they hadn't done in months. Finally, Benton tilted his chair back on two legs and stretched mightily. Sitting forward again with a thump, he shoved himself up from the table and picked up their plates, saying, "Well, shall we get started?"

"Actually, I've had another thought," she replied, retrieving their coffee cups and joining him at the sink. "Most of the real work in getting my decorations up are the outside lights and I really don't see trying to put them up in this snow. Why don't we do your place first and then we can do mine later in the week when the weather clears?"

"Well, it's okay with me, but I really don't mind the snow."

"I'm sure you don't, but with the luck you've had recently, I don't want you up on the top of a 25-foot extension ladder in this weather. Race would never forgive me if you fell and broke a leg . . . or your neck!" Then it was her turn to grin impishly. "Furthermore, if we leave right now, there's a good chance that Emily will be awake when we get there, and we can waste some more time playing with the baby."

He shook his head, grinning. "You are such a sucker for kids."

"You betcha. I will let you do one thing for me, though, if you don't mind."

"Name it."

"There's a box that's stuck in the top of the guest room closet. Would you get it down for me?"

"Certainly. Where is it?"

She pointed back toward the front door. "Up the main staircase and then turn to your right. It's the second door on your left. You can't miss it. The box is hanging halfway out of the closet."

"Okay," he said agreeably. "Where do you want me to put it?"

"Just set it on the bed. I haven't had it out in about two years so I'll need to sort through it and figure out what's in there. The guest room is as good a place to do that as any. By the time you get it down, I should be ready to go."

She watched him disappear into the front of the house and then turned back to the sink. As she rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, she smiled to herself. After her behavior of the previous night, she expected to be absolutely mortified when she met him again, but his boyishness and good cheer had short-circuited her embarrassment before it could even get started. And she had to admit that she felt better this morning than she had in weeks.

That thought caused her to frown slightly. _You're setting yourself up again, _ she mused as she dried her hands on a dishtowel. _If something happens to him . . . _

_'Shut up!'_ her little voice snarled in vexation. She blinked in surprise and then started to laugh aloud, struck by the absolute absurdity of a non-existent voice in her own head being angry with her. "Barbara Mason, you need to get a life!" she chortled and turned to find Benton standing in the doorway grinning at her.

"Well then, let's find you one." 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


"So, are you doing better?" Estella asked Barbara a short time later.

Barbara smiled at the small, strawberry blonde baby she held, shifting from one foot to another as she rocked her gently. The child waved a tiny fist at her and yawned, her eyes drooping relentlessly. "Such a sleepy little girl," Barbara cooed and was rewarded with another yawn and a final dreamy, blue-eyed look before Emily's eyes closed and she dropped off to sleep. She cuddled the child for a few moments more and then reluctantly returned her to her mother. "She so good. Not an instant's fuss out of her."

Estella laughed. "You should be here at two in the morning! She may be good tempered most of the time, but she's definitely a night owl and when she wants attention, she can bring the walls down."

"You certainly wouldn't know it to see her now."

"No, you wouldn't." her mother said fondly, nuzzling her. "She's momma's good girl." She grinned at Barbara. "You should see Race with her. He's absolutely smitten . . ."

"Oh, like you aren't?"

Estella laughed again and then rose easily from the large family room reading chair. Kissing Emily's head lovingly, she walked over to the makeshift bed in the corner of the big sofa and laid the baby down in the nest of blankets.

"You need a bed down here for her," Barbara commented, thinking of the cradle Benton had purchased the day before.

Estella shook her head. "This does well enough and I really don't want to clutter Benton's home with baby paraphernalia."

"He wouldn't care. You know that. Furthermore, it's _your_ home, too."

"I know. It's just that I still feel a little bad about this sudden influx of young children. I mean, his own kids are barely gone, and all of a sudden he's saddled with a ten-year-old, a five-year-old, and a brand new baby. And he really wasn't asked his opinion about adding them to the household, either. We're just trying to minimize the disruption as much as we can." Changing the subject, she said, "You didn't answer my question."

"I'm better," Barbara acknowledged, perching on a nearby ottoman. "It hasn't been easy, but I think I'm getting my bearings again."

"I'm so sorry about all of this, Barbara. I wish there was something I could have done to help you."

Barbara shrugged. "It's my own fault. I let myself get too close . . . to care too deeply. Any doctor worth her salt knows that if you lose your objectivity or become too deeply involved with a patient, that you're asking for trouble."

"And you class being in love with Benton Quest as trouble?"

Barbara gave her a wry smile. "Well, isn't it?"

"I suppose you have a point. After all, wasn't I the one who told you once that loving one of them is never easy?"

"Amen to that!"

"He does care about you, you know."

"As a friend, nothing more. And don't think I'm complaining," she added hastily when she saw Estella about to protest. "I consider it a high honor that he trusts me as far as he does. Believe me, Estella, I know there are secrets in this place that I'm probably a whole lot better off not knowing. And that's all right. I can get into enough trouble all on my own." She flushed suddenly and her eyes fell. "I suppose he told you about last night."

Estella arched an eyebrow in surprise. "He said the two of you went shopping and then had dinner . . ."

"But he didn't tell you that I went to pieces on him?"

"No, I guess he forgot to mention that," Estella said dryly. "Are you okay now?"

"Yes . . . actually, I feel better than I have in some time. I guess maybe I needed the opportunity to vent a little. The thing is, I all but told him that I loved him, but he didn't respond. Obviously he doesn't feel the same way."

"You 'all but told him', but you didn't say it pointblank?"

"No, of course not."

Estella shook her head. "Barbara, how many times do we have to say it? The man is _dense_ when it comes to relationships. He can see it in others, but you practically have to hit him over the head when it has to do with his own." She looked thoughtful for a minute and then added, "You know what I think? I think that he doesn't consider himself attractive to women."

Barbara stared at her in disbelief. "You must be joking," she exclaimed. "He's one of the most attractive, sexy men I've ever met!"

Estella held up her hands defensively, laughing. "I agree with you completely. But that's beside the point. Do you remember my telling you about what a hard time Jon and Jessie had with their relationship during that first couple of years? Jessie told me later that a lot of it was because Jon couldn't imagine what she could see in him, and was convinced that sooner or later she would get bored and dump him. Benton tends to be the same way. It's another example of father and son being too much alike. He considers himself the egghead scientist with his head stuck in the clouds, and he can't imagine any woman being attracted by that. Outside of scientific circles, I think he considers himself boring. Who knows, maybe it's a holdover from experiences he had in college. It's a blind spot that he has a lot of trouble overcoming. And Race says that women who show undue interest in him make him extremely nervous."

"He must be nervous constantly then!" That caused both of them to laugh.

"The point is, when he's around you, he's different. Hadji was right. You make him happy . . . truly happy . . . in a way he hasn't been since Rachel died. He cares for you, and as more than just a friend, too . . . he simply doesn't realize it yet. You're either going to have to be extremely patient with him or just tell him outright. Personally, I think you should just do it and get it over with."

"And suddenly be relegated to the crowd of women who 'show undue interest'? No thank you. Maybe he is more interested in me than he realizes, but I'm not going to push my luck. If he needs time to acclimate to the idea, then I'll give it to him." She grimaced. "But do you have any _idea_ how hard it is to be so attracted to him and have to act professional when he's standing in front of me stark naked?"

Estella clapped her hand over her mouth, attempting to stifle the ribald laughter and crude comments that immediately came to mind. Barbara just glared at her. "Go ahead, laugh. It's not funny for me!" She sighed. "I tried to talk to him about it last night, but he just wouldn't listen, so it looks like I'm not going anywhere."

The laughter fled Estella's face as she frowned. "'Going anywhere?' Why? Were you looking to move?"

"No, that's not what I meant. I tried to tell him last night that he needs to find himself a new family physician, but he refused to even discuss it."

"Well, I should hope _not!" _ Estella exclaimed indignantly. "Pardon me for saying so, but that's the stupidest idea you've ever come up with. Why in God's name would he want to change doctors? None of us would."

"I told you, Estella. I've lost my objectivity, particularly when it comes to Benton, and that's not a good thing."

"I don't care," she replied stubbornly. "If we wanted pure objectivity we'd see someone that's a shriveled, stuck up old snoot like prune-face over in Camden."

"Estella!"

"Well, I'm sorry, but he is. You're a damned good doctor, Barbara, and we all trust you. There's not one of us that will change, objectivity be damned."

"Is there a problem?" Benton asked as he and Race entered the room carrying a load of boxes.

"Change doctors, my foot!" Estella muttered and then left the room sounding thoroughly miffed.

"Who's changing doctors?" Race asked, confused.

Benton looked at her sternly. "I thought I was clear on this subject last night, Barbara. I won't change doctors." Then he paused, looking at her with a dawning expression of hurt. "Unless you're telling me that you're going to refuse to treat me any longer?"

"No, of course not," she replied hastily, her heart twisting painfully at the look on his face. "Not if -" She sighed. "I just think that, medically, you'd be better off with someone -"

"No."

"Oh, all right," she finally relented. Then she shook her finger at him in mock sternness, trying to lighten the mood. "But if anything goes wrong, you better not sue me!"

Benton grinned at her. "I'll remember. So, do you want to supervise or help?"

"What fun is supervising? I like to root through the boxes!"

The four of them spent the rest of the day working on decorating the huge house for the holidays. They installed a ten-foot spruce in the family room that took them almost three hours to decorate. Vassey and Maia joined them later in the morning, after having gone Christmas shopping with Mrs. Evans. Both were utterly fascinated by the entire concept of Christmas and Maia asked questions about everything. Barbara watched with quiet approval as Race patiently worked with Vassey, showing him everything and coaxing him to try to repeat names of items he helped put on the tree. The child was still refusing to talk, a byproduct of what the two children went through following the death of their parents. But it seemed that they were improving, and both were heard to laugh on occasion. In a quiet aside, Race told her that he'd even managed to get a few whispered words out of Vassey once when they were alone.

No room in the mansion was ignored, and at her suggestion, they even put up a tree in the library, which was most often used as Benton's study. "You spend more time there than you do almost anywhere else in the house," she had told him. "It ought to be properly decorated," to which he laughingly agreed.

It was almost six o'clock and darkness had fallen when she found herself alone in the study putting the finishing touches on a centerpiece of pine boughs, holly, and candles on the huge library table in the center of the room. Flipping off the lights, she lit the candles and then stepped back to survey her handiwork. As she did so, her eyes were irresistibly drawn to the huge portrait of Rachel Quest and her son that dominated the room. It seemed to glow and Barbara wondered when Benton had installed the special lighting. What drew her she would never be able to say, but in the absolute silence that filled the room, she moved out to stand squarely in front of the portrait.

"Why can't you let him go?" she asked softly, staring up at the image of Benton's dead wife. "Hasn't he grieved for you long enough?"

As she stood there, she felt a sudden chill pervade the room and a profound sense of isolation filled her. Fear suddenly stirred in the face of the unnatural silence and Barbara could have sworn that the woman in the picture inclined her head slightly, as if shifting to pay closer attention.

"I love him," she whispered, unsure of what she was doing or why. "You have to know that. And I would care for him the very best I know how. But you have to _let_ me."

She shivered as she felt the chill sweep through her. Barbara shook her head, as if understanding some unspoken protest.

"I would never ask him to forget. Your love made him what he is . . . he and Jon both. To take that away would be to diminish him, and I would never do that. But he needs to learn to live again. Jon is gone now, and so is Hadji. And even though Race and Estella and the others are here, there is still a part of him that feels alone."

Again that nameless chill touched her, only this time it lingered and Barbara could sense a deep, abiding sadness in it. _Could she actually be here . . . in this house? _ Barbara wondered suddenly. _Or am I just going crazy? _ She stared at the picture, mesmerized, while she urged herself to turn and leave the room. But she couldn't seem to move, and almost in spite of herself, she continued.

"He deserves the opportunity to be happy. Please . . . please give me the chance to try to do that for him."

Without warning, the entire room turned frigid and the candles on the table stuttered, as if blown by a sudden draft. Barbara's breath misted in the cold air as she stood, unable to move or utter a sound. She felt that ghostly presence seep into her until she was so chilled it felt like the blood in her veins was starting to freeze.

"Barbara?" His voice shattered the silence and she felt warm air wash over her, but she could still feel the icy presence deep inside of her. "Are you all right? What are you doing standing here in the dark?"

She blinked, suddenly realizing that the ghostly light from the portrait was gone and that she stood in a room lit only by flickering candles and Christmas lights. She swallowed with difficulty, knowing somehow that the ghost in the portrait _had_ been real and that even after all this time, Rachel Quest wasn't gone. Barbara could sense her watchfulness as she forced a brittle laugh. "Admiring my handiwork. What do you think?"

"It's lovely. I don't know that I've ever seen this room look so festive. Was there something wrong with Rachel's portrait?"

Barbara suppressed a shiver as the cold presence within her tensed. "No," she replied with a stiff smile. "I was just thinking about the possibility of putting a lit pine garland around it. It would look nice, I think." She paused for an instant and then something made her add, "You know, every time I see that portrait, I'm struck by how much Jon looks like her."

"Yes, he does," Benton replied, and the other stirred at the tone in his voice. Barbara moved closer, laying a gentle hand on his arm.

"What's wrong?"

He was silent for a moment, gazing up at the picture of his wife in the candlelight. Then, in a tired voice he said, "Jessie just called. She was asking Race and Estella to bring Emily and come to Boston for Christmas. She says that she simply can't get away."

The icy chill that rose to encompass Barbara held the distinct tang of anger this time, but Benton didn't seem to notice anything strange. Struggling against the overwhelming presence, Barbara asked, "Did you talk to her? What about Jon?"

"No, she only wanted to speak to Race, although Estella talked with her, too. According to them, Jon will still be home, but Jessie will stay in Boston."

"Did she say why?"

Benton shrugged. "According to Race, she says she needs the time to finish up the incompletes she was forced to take because she got so behind in her class work while the kids were in Bangalore. It makes sense, I guess. All of her classes domino on each other. If she doesn't clear the incompletes before the start of spring term, she'll probably have to drop about half of what she's pre-registered for and totally rearrange her schedule. I wouldn't want her to have to do that."

Barbara could sense that cold anger growing and she silently urged patience. "So are they going to go?"

"Race says no. He told Jessie that he's sick and tired of her being this way and that if she was going to stay in Boston and pout, she could spend the holidays by herself. But I won't let them do that to her. She doesn't deserve to be cut off from her parents and baby sister because of me."

She patted his arm gently. "Give it a little time, Benton. She's probably feeling overwhelmed right now. Once she has some time to think about it, she may change her mind." And to that ghostly rage that hovered steadily in the recesses of her soul she said silently, _Leave this to me. _


	3. Part III

**Part III**

  


It was Wednesday before Barbara could manage to rearrange her schedule enough to get away without raising any undue questions. She mentioned her plans to no one, saying only that she had some errands to run before Christmas, so she would be leaving the office at 11:00, and would be in again the next morning. During that entire time, she could feel the cold, hovering presence deep inside her. It was as if the ghost of Rachel Quest had invaded her very soul and was watching the world through her eyes.

By the time she made the drive and worked her way to her destination it was nearing 4:30. Praying she wasn't too late, she parked in a nearby municipal parking garage and made her way on foot to the Garrett J. Blackman Corporate Plaza. She paused for a moment outside the building and gazed around at the bustling streets and then upward toward the soaring heights of the skyscraper. _A long way from the rural Maine countryside he grew up in, _ she thought to herself, and she felt that cold presence agree.

Turning resolutely back to her goal, she shoved open the door and entered the building. The lobby was huge, rising several stories before reaching the ceiling. Gleaming floors of polished granite reflected the light of the suspended chandeliers while the glass walls of the ground level made you feel as though you still were part of the bustling city street. Isolated islands of seating were scattered throughout the open area and at the very center was a large fountain. The water tumbled over the burnished silver sculpture leaving the impression of an ancient tree standing in the rain. Barbara stood staring at the fountain for several minutes, the peaceful sound of the falling water and the image of the tree filling her with a quiet sense of tranquility. Finally, she shook her head slightly and looked around, immediately spotting the reception desk situated back near a bank of elevators.

She approached the desk and smiled at the man behind it. "Hello. I wonder if you can help me. I'm trying to contact a young man who works here. His name is Jonathan Quest. Do you know how I can reach him?" Behind her, she heard footsteps approaching but took little notice.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"I'm afraid not," she replied regretfully. "My trip to the city was rather unexpected and I didn't have the chance to call ahead."

"I can see if Mr. Quest is still in the building, but it is rather late in the day. Your name please?"

"Mason. Barbara Mason."

As the man reached for the phone, a voice behind her questioned, "Dr. Mason? Of Rockport?"

Barbara turned in surprise and found herself facing a young black man she didn't know. He was dressed in business casual attire and carried a large briefcase. "Yes. I'm sorry, I don't believe -"

He laughed and held out his hand. "Blake Fearday. We've spoken once or twice on the telephone."

She smiled back, taking the hand he offered. "Of course, Blake, I remember. It's nice to finally meet you."

"And you. Did I hear that you're looking for Jon?"

"Yes, and I'm afraid he's not expecting me, so I don't even know if he's here."

Blake grinned as he reached out for a pen to sign the log sheet. "Oh, he's here. He's _always _ here. Don't know how Jessica puts up with him. I'll take you up. Adam, give me a visitor's badge, will you?"

The guard looked hesitant. "Perhaps I should check. I mean, with everything else -"

"Don't be a jerk, Adam. Just give me the visitor's badge. I'll vouch for her."

Reluctantly, Adam handed Blake the requested item and gestured for Barbara to sign in. Then the two of them walked toward the elevators.

"He takes his job very seriously," Barbara observed as the elevator doors closed behind them. Blake shrugged.

"A little too seriously sometimes, if you ask me. But we've all got our jobs to do I guess. So, you're paying a surprise visit." Blake paused and then said hesitantly. "I hope there's nothing wrong with his dad again."

Barbara smiled. "No, nothing like that. Benton is fine. I was just in the area and hadn't had the chance to see either he or Jessica in some time, so I decided to take my chances and see if I could catch them."

"I'm sure they'll both be glad to see you," he replied as the elevator slid to a stop and the doors opened with a sigh. "Follow me." Blake led the way across a small reception-style room to a set of large glass doors. Pushing them open, they crossed into a large office complex filled with cubicles. Without pausing, he crossed to one of them and stuck his head in, but withdrew again immediately.

"Hey, Jon, you here?" Blake called loudly.

"Yeah," a disembodied voice replied. "What is it?"

"You've got company."

"What kind of 'company'," the familiar voice called back suspiciously, still staying mysteriously invisible. "The last time you told me I had company, I spent a week trying to convince everyone the 'visitor' wasn't my idea."

Barbara raised an eyebrow at Blake who grinned back devilishly. "Yeah, but it sure was a lot of fun."

"For you, maybe, but if Jess ever finds out -"

"Uh, I'm not sure that's a discussion you want to pursue right now," Blake broke in hastily. "You really do have a visitor, and she's not one of my making."

Jonny's head suddenly popped out of the door of a cubicle about halfway down the long hallway. "Who - Dr. Mason?!?" The instant he saw her, his suspicious scowl disappeared and he broke into that familiar, lopsided grin. Trotting up the hallway, he greeted her enthusiastically, enveloping her in a warm, exuberant hug. "Man, it's great to see you! What are you doing here?"

Barbara laughed breathlessly, the warmth of his greeting sending a contented flush through her and driving that lingering chill further back into the recesses of her soul. "I'm fine," she replied, returning his hug. "I was in the area and I thought I'd stop and say hello. I missed you the last time you were home."

"The last two times I was home," he corrected her with a grin. "And how's my thoroughly clueless father these days?"

She could feel herself blush, but laughed and responded in the same tone, "Still clueless, as always." That caused both of them to laugh. "No really, he's fine. As I said, I just stopped by to see you and Jessica."

"Well, I'm glad you did."

"Barbara!"

The two of them turned and smiled as Stan Knight came striding up to them. "It's wonderful to see you again. No problems, I hope?"

"No, not at all. This call is purely social."

"Glad to hear it . . . in more ways than one." He turned a critical eye on Jonny. "I can use you as an excuse to get this young man out of here at a decent hour for a change. Pack it in and go home, Jon."

A look of concern suddenly flitted across his face. "Oh, but I -"

"Go . . . home," Stan said sternly. "It will all be here tomorrow."

Jonny sighed. "Yeah, I know. That's the problem." At Stan's scowl, Jonny held up his hands defensively. "Okay, okay. I'm going. But just so you know, I have to be back here by 8:00 tonight. They're running the first beta test on the new screening software, and I promised I'd be here in case they have a problem."

Stan didn't look happy, but nodded reluctantly. "All right, if you have to come back, then you have to. But you're to leave now, and if you can't get the thing up and running by midnight, you're to pack it in and call it a night. Clear?"

Jonny straightened sharply and snapped off a salute. "Yes, SIR!"

"Get out of here," Stan grumbled at him good-naturedly. He, Blake and Barbara watched as Jonny strode off jauntily toward his cubicle to shut down his computer and get his coat. As he disappeared they all heard a phone begin to ring and Stan immediately yelled, "Don't you _dare _ answer that phone! That's why you have voice mail."

"Yes, mother," came Jonny's distant reply. Blake snickered, but the amused looked disappeared when Jonny added hesitantly, "It's Tokyo . . ."

**"NO!" ** Stan thundered as Blake said, "I'll take it!" and ran for his desk.

"Is he always like this?" Barbara asked, bemused.

"No, not at all," Stan replied in disgust. "Today's a _good _ day. I swear, if we put a bed in here for him, he'd never go home."

She chuckled. "Benton always did say he had a one track mind."

Stan just gazed heavenward in supplication and then called, "Come on, Jon, let's go. You're keeping the lady waiting."

"I'm coming," he mumbled, juggling an armload of printouts as he attempted to struggle into his coat.

Stan reached out, retrieved the stack of papers from him, and paged through it as Jonny shrugged into his coat. Snatching it back when Jonny would have reached for it again, Stan said, "I'll just set this on your desk for tomorrow."

"But -"

"Get him out of my sight, Barbara," Stan commanded. "Before I do something rash."

Barbara laughed and caught the young man by the arm, pulling him toward the doors. "Give it up, Jon. You aren't going to win this argument."

"Yeah, okay," he replied reluctantly, and then grinned at her again. "Let's go." They chatted companionably, talking about mutual acquaintances and life back in Rockport, as they descended the elevator and made their way out to the street. As they exited the building, Jonny paused.

"How did you get here?"

"I drove."

"So your car's parked around here somewhere?"

Barbara nodded. "Just up the street."

"Okay. Why don't we take your car and I'll leave ours here. Then I can take the T back in this evening and drive the car home when I'm done."

She arched an eyebrow in surprise, but nodded agreeably. "All right. I thought you didn't have a car."

Jonny grimaced slightly. "We have our Jetta from home. Dad insisted I take it when I left to come back here. Said it would cause him undue stress if I didn't."

"Taking advantage of the situation, was he?" she asked with a laugh.

"Pretty much. I have to admit, it sure is convenient to have it, though."

"I would imagine. Here we are." She routed in her purse and then tossed him the keys. "You can drive since you know where we're going."

"Where _are _ we going?" he asked as he started the car.

"Well, I thought maybe we could pick up Jessie and then I'd take the two of you to dinner."

"Okay. I guess the best place to find Jess is at home. By the time we got down to MIT, she'd probably be out of her last class and we'd likely miss her at the transit station. It's just easier to go where I know she'll be heading."

"Fine. I'll leave it up to you."

Jonny swung out of the parking garage and turned, heading out into the gathering rush hour traffic. For a time the two of them were quiet as he moved expertly though the congestion, making for the freeway. When he hit the ramp, he accelerated aggressively, reached the end of it going the speed limit, and slotted neatly in between two cars with little more than two inches to spare. When Barbara released the pent up breath she didn't even realize she was holding, Jonny grinned at her.

"Only way to survive traffic in this town. If you aren't pushy, you end up at a dead stop at the top of the ramp and the people that pile up behind you are likely to do something nasty." Then his grin faded. "So why are you really here, Dr. Mason? Not that I'm not glad to see you, but this is a long way to come just to pay a social call. Is there something wrong with Dad?"

"No, Jon, I promise you. Healthwise, your father is fine."

"And otherwise?" When Barbara didn't answer immediately, Jonny sighed. "It's the business with Jess, isn't it? He's angry."

"No, he's not angry. It's her parents that are angry. Benton is the exact opposite. It's almost like he's using her anger as a form of penance. He feels bad about everything that happened and he's very grateful to her for standing up for you the way she did."

Jonny sighed. "I knew it. Hadji said they fought after Dad and I got into it that last time."

"Yes. And while I know that you and your father are making good progress in resolving your own problems, I think Jessie is having a tough time. Benton understands that, but that doesn't mean that her unwillingness to let it go doesn't hurt."

"I really don't understand her, Dr. Mason. She just can't seem to let it drop, even though she knows that Dad and I have made peace. There are still times when Dad can set me off and times when I do the same to him; that's natural I guess. But she won't give an inch. It's not like her to hold a grudge like this."

"Isn't it? Her parents say it is . . . that it takes a lot to push her that far, but when something finally does, she can cling to that anger tenaciously."

"Yeah, okay, she can be that way sometimes," he acknowledged reluctantly. "But not without good cause and definitely not about stuff that's blatantly unfair. If he had acted the way he did deliberately and with malice . . . then yeah, it would be like her to hang onto it. But not like this. Not when she _knows _ that it was something beyond his control."

"Well, I'm hoping to talk to her about it. See if I can figure out what the problem is. Do you think she'll be willing to do that?"

Jonny shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. Maybe. She won't talk to me about it, that's for sure. I've tried. But you told us once that when you're really upset like this, sometimes the last person you want to talk to is someone that's close to the situation. You're close, but not as close as her parents or me, so maybe she will."

"It's worth a try at any rate."

Conversation between them died down, and eventually, Jonny turned onto a narrow, tree-lined street some distance from downtown. Here, his aggressive driving tendencies were not in evidence, as he moved slowly and cautiously down the snow-packed road. In the rapidly gathering twilight, Barbara could still see people moving around the neighborhood. On one side of the street were a group of children working diligently on a huge snowman. They stopped and stared at the car and Barbara got the feeling that strange vehicles were not the norm in this private little backwater. They all began calling and waving, however, as they recognized Jonny at the wheel. He grinned and waved back cheerfully. A bit further up, she spotted an elderly woman standing ankle-deep in snow next to what was obviously an old apartment building. Her hands were on her hips and the tension in her stance told Barbara that she was angry.

Carefully, Jonny parked the car along the curb across the street from the apartment building and climbed out hastily. "Is everything all right, Mrs. Taylor?" he called anxiously, crossing to her as Barbara stepped out into the snow.

The woman turned her formidable glare on Jonny, only to have it fade into a pleasant smile as she recognized him. "Oh hello, dear. Home early, are you? That's nice. It will make young Jessica very happy . . . although, she's not home yet. Mercy, she's getting to be as bad as you are. Young people nowadays . . . never seem to stay at home any more. Mrs. Jensen down on two needs to talk to you. Claims her windows aren't opening properly again, though why she would want to have them open in this weather is beyond me. MAGNUS, YOU COME HERE THIS INSTANT! Stupid creature. Don't know why I put up with him . . . more work than he's worth. **MAGNUS! ** I don't believe I know your friend, dear."

Barbara would have sworn that the woman's entire speech had been uttered without a single breath of air and it left her feeling a bit dazed, but Jonny seemed to take it totally in stride. "Mrs. Jensen and her windows. Yes, ma'am. I'll check on them as soon as I can. This is Dr. Mason. She's a friend from Maine who's just here for the day. If you'll look after her for a minute, I'll go get Magnus. Is he in the Winchester's back yard?"

"Well, of course he is, dear. That poodle of theirs is probably in heat again. Those people shouldn't be allowed to own a pet if they aren't going to take care of it properly!"

"Yes, ma'am," Jonny replied, having obviously heard the lady's opinion on this matter before. "I'll be right back." And with that, he took off through the snow between the two buildings calling for the creature Barbara assumed was a dog.

"It's very nice to meet you. I'm Mrs. Taylor. I live downstairs from Jon and Jessica."

"How do you do, Mrs. Taylor. I'm Barbara Mason, a long-time friend of Jon and Jessica's family."

"So the boy said. And a doctor, too. A medical doctor?"

"Yes."

"Good for you! Girls these days should have something to keep them busy. This business of sitting at home embroidering is nonsense. Not that I have anything against embroidery, mind you. Every girl should know how to do it. But it can be incredibly boring sometimes, can't it?"

It was all Barbara could do to keep her smile hidden. "Absolutely," she agreed. "It is nice to have something else to get you out of the house."

"Now see, that's what I keep telling my nephew. But does he listen to me? Of course he doesn't! Ah, here they are . . ."

Barbara looked up and blinked in astonishment as Jonny reappeared leading the largest dog she'd ever seen. The animal bounced along beside him, trying to lick his hand while Jonny clung tenaciously to his collar and told him what a bad dog he was. He greeted the tiny Mrs. Taylor exuberantly, causing her to laugh.

"Magnus, this is Dr. Mason," Mrs. Taylor told the animal, gesturing for Barbara to hold out her hand. "She's a friend." The dog sniffed the hand and then licked it, wagged his tail, and let out a thunderous bark of approval. All three of them laughed.

"Can you handle him from here, Mrs. Taylor?"

"Yes, dear. We'll be fine now. Mind you, don't forget Mrs. Jensen."

"Yes, ma'am."

Jonny led the way into the apartment building and punched the button for the elevator. "You're lucky," he commented to Barbara. "I think it's working. We finally found a repair service worth its weight in gold. They see to it that it stays in running order. So what did you think of Mrs. Taylor?"

"What a wonderful lady. But really, Jon, that dog!"

"Magnus is okay," Jonny said, chuckling a little, as they exited the elevator on the fourth floor and walked up the hall toward a door at the far end. "And he defends her faithfully. No one gives her any grief out on the street. Magnus may seem friendly, but he's an entirely different animal if someone threatens Mrs. Taylor. And the nice thing is, he's really good with all the kids in the area, too. This is a pretty safe neighborhood generally, but we had a problem with a drug peddler trying to approach the kids a couple of months ago. When Mrs. Taylor found out about it, she turned Magnus lose on him and we haven't been bothered since." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his keys and unlocked the door. "Well, here we are . . . home, sweet home."

He shoved open the door and flipped on the light, allowing Barbara to precede him into the room. She crossed the threshold and then stopped dead, gazing around in astonishment. The room looked like a set from some bad French Revolution movie. She swallowed hard, trying desperately to think of something nice to say, but wasn't able to come up with a thing. Behind her, she heard Jonny snicker.

"Don't even try to be polite," he told her. "It's god-awful. But the place came furnished and I guess the previous owner loved the stuff. Here, let me take your coat."

Barbara handed it over and then bent to look more closely at the coffee table in front of her. "Well, it may be out of date, but it's in beautiful condition. This stuff could be worth a fortune, Jon! These are high quality antiques."

"We're hoping so," he replied, turning from the coat closet and waving her to a chair. "Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea? I think there might even be some hot chocolate?"

"I wouldn't mind something warm, if it's not too much trouble."

"No trouble at all. How about coffee? I could use some too."

"That would be fine. What do you mean, you hope so?"

"Well, this building is owned by a tenant's association that was established by the former owner. She died some years ago and left the building and an endowment to the tenants to ensure that they would always have a place to live. The proceeds from the endowment pay the taxes and general everyday maintenance, but there really isn't much left over to cope with sudden, catastrophic problems. Most of the people living here are older and many of them are on fixed incomes, so coming up with the money to take care of something major is a real problem." He reappeared in the kitchen door and leaned against the jamb comfortably. Behind him, Barbara could hear the sound of the coffee pot as it began to gurgle. "For example, I mentioned that the elevator was working again? We just had to have the drive motor and all of the wheels and pulleys replaced. The thing was ancient and we kept getting people stuck on it. The whole job cost over $20,000. These people don't have the money for that kind of thing."

"So how did you fund it?"

Jonny shrugged. "I helped the tenant's association put together a grant application to the Quest Foundation. This building is actually on the National Register of historic sites, so it qualified for aid. But they don't like taking 'charity' - that's how they think of it - so we're looking for better ways to bank for emergencies. We're in the process of getting all of the furniture and artwork in this apartment appraised. If it's worth even half as much as we suspect it is, we're going to contact some top-flight auction houses about selling all of it and then use the money to set up a trust, the earnings of which can be used to help fund maintenance of the building. It will make the tax situation a little more confusing, but I've found them a good attorney who tends to do most of the work pro bono, so that's helped a lot."

Barbara shook her head in amazement. Leave it to this young man to find a creative way to solve the problems of his neighbors. "What about you? What are you going do for furniture."

Jon shrugged. "We'll make do with what we can find at used furniture stores and the like for a while. There's also a really nice woodworking shop downstairs at the back of the building . . . belongs to one of the tenants. Her husband was a furniture maker before he died. She says Jess and I can use it any time, so we can probably build some pieces, too. We're not too worried about it." He laughed a little. "We're not home that much, anyway." He turned and glanced over his shoulder. "Looks like the coffee's done. You take it with a little bit of cream, don't you?"

She smiled at him. "You remembered." He grinned back and disappeared into the kitchen as she rose and wandered to the front window to look out. The streetlights had come on in the late evening dusk and they reflected off of the snow, giving the quiet street a particularly picturesque appearance.

"Here you go," Jonny said, handing her the cheap ceramic mug, adding apologetically, "I hate to abandon you, but I really should go down and check on Mrs. Jensen."

"Go right ahead. I don't mind a bit. Actually, I'd been thinking. Rather than taking you out to dinner, why don't I see what I can come up with to fix here? It saves us from going out in the snow, and it may be that Jessie will be just as happy to stay in once she finally gets home."

"I can't ask you to do that," Jonny protested. "You're a guest in my home -"

"No, I'm a _friend _ in your home," Barbara corrected. "Your father lets me cook in his house. Why is this any different?"

"But -"

"Go on. Go see to Mrs. Jensen and let me see what I can scrounge up."

Reluctantly, Jonny trailed out as Barbara rose and went into the kitchen to forage. After a little bit of searching, she pulled out a couple of fresh chicken breasts, a can of tomato sauce, an assortment of spices, some fresh mushrooms and a box of spaghetti. By the time she heard the door again, the sauce for chicken cacciatore was bubbling in a pan on the stove and she had just turned on the heat under a pot of water to start the pasta.

"It's nothing fancy, but with a salad it should feed all of us," she called out, thinking Jonny had returned.

"Hello?" a startled voice came back in return, and an instant later Jessie Bannon appeared in the kitchen doorway. She held a hat in one hand and had not yet shed her coat. "Dr. Mason? What are you doing here?"

"Jessica!" Barbara came around the counter and crossed to hug the young woman. Jessie returned the gesture willingly enough, but when she stepped back, Barbara could see a frown hovering at the corners of her mouth.

"This is a surprise. What brings you to Boston?"

"Purely a social call."

"No, it's not," she replied in a hard tone, the frown blossoming into a full-blown scowl. "Dr. Quest sent you, didn't he?"

"No."

"Then my dad."

"No, not him either. Or your mother."

"Then why are you here?"

Barbara crossed her arms and surveyed the young woman in front of her thoughtfully. She was so tense Barbara could almost see her quivering, and her face was too white, emphasizing the dark circles shadowing her eyes. Barbara suddenly recalled a recent conversation with Estella. She had commented that she was worried about her daughter's continuing struggle to come to terms with what she'd seen and done in Bangalore, and looking at Jessie now, Barbara thought she had a right to be concerned. "I'm here because I'm worried about you," she replied quietly after a long moment.

"Well, you don't need to bother," she replied jerkily and then turned and disappeared into the other room. Barbara stared thoughtfully after her for a moment and then returned to the stove where she stirred the sauce and began adding pasta to the now boiling pot of water. She could hear Jessie moving around in the living room and waited patiently. After several minutes, she reappeared in the kitchen doorway.

"What are you doing?"

"Making dinner."

"You're a guest in our home. Why are you stuck making dinner? Where's Jon?"

"Down checking on Mrs. Jensen's windows." She glanced up from the pasta pot and grinned. "I had the chance to meet Mrs. Taylor and Magnus on the way in. That's quite a pair."

Jessie grinned reluctantly. "Not many like Mrs. Taylor around. She's an angel, though."

"She certainly seems to be. And she's definitely taken a shine to the two of you. Come over here and sample this sauce and tell me if you think it needs more oregano."

Obediently, Jessie did as Barbara asked. "No, it's good. I wouldn't add anything else. Look, Dr. Mason, you really don't -"

"Let's leave it for right now, shall we? I'd like to spend some time just catching up." Barbara smiled at the young woman next you her. "I've missed both of you. Rockport just doesn't seem the same without you guys around." Barbara didn't miss the look of longing that flickered across Jessie face, but in the blink of an eye it was gone again and the shadow of a frown returned. Barbara sighed softly. "Jessie, I won't lie to you. I came down here specifically to talk about your problems with Benton. But I've never taken sides in any of the disputes you've had within your family and I'm not going to start now." Deep inside of her, Barbara felt that cold presence stir, the anger it harbored licking along her senses like a living thing. Once again, she crooned silently to it, urging patience. "Jon has to go back into work tonight, so what do you say we enjoy ourselves while he's still here and we can talk once he leaves again?"

This time is was Jessie's turn to sigh and shake her head. "Naturally. Work is all he ever does."

"Well, what can you expect? Benton's a work-a-holic, so I'm not surprised the rest of you are, too." Both of them heard the sound of the key in the door at the same time. "We can talk about that later, too, if you'd like. And if it's any consolation, he has to be out of the office by midnight - Stan's orders."

"Well, that's something . . ."

"Dr. Mason? Jessie? Hey, where is everybody?"

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


"How about another cup of coffee?" Jessie asked about three hours later. Jonny had left to head back to the office and the two women had just finished cleaning up the kitchen. "We can take them out and sit at the dining room table."

"Sounds good to me." While Jessie poured the coffee, Barbara wandered back out into the living room and gazed around her.

_No, this environment really isn't them, _ she mused with a touch of humor. _I'm not sure I'd want to spend a lot of time here, either. _

"Is all the furniture like this?" she asked Jessie as she came out of the kitchen.

The young woman grimaced. "Every bit of it. Didn't Jon show you around?" When she shook her head, Jessie gestured and the two of them spent the next several minutes wandering through the two-bedroom apartment. When they returned to the living room, Barbara shook her head again.

"I don't claim to be an expert on French Provencal furnishings, but I've done enough antiquing to suspect that you're right about the value of all of the stuff here. And not just the furniture, either. The rugs, the pictures, even the frames on some of the reprints in the back room . . . I think all of it is probably valuable."

Jessie raised her eyebrows. "Even the picture frames? I mean, they're the most awful things I've ever seen!"

Barbara grinned at her. "There's no accounting for taste, and they are classic for the period. I'd be sure to have all of it appraised . . . and probably by more than one person. I've got some friends who are seriously into antiques. I could probably get you some names if you'd like."

"That would be great. We've got a local guy coming in, but a second opinion is probably a good idea." Jessie gestured Barbara to a chair and the two of them settled down across the corner of the table from each other. Then Jessie sighed and said quietly, "You know, Dr. Mason, I really do appreciate your willingness to try to intervene again, but it really isn't any of your business."

"It wasn't the first time, either," Barbara pointed out with a smile, "but it didn't stop me then and it won't now. Jessie, you need to talk to someone about this . . . if not me, then someone else. The truth is, right now you're acting as strangely as Benton did when he pulled the stunt with Jon's admission to M.I.T."

Jessie's mouth tightened and anger flared in her eyes. "Am I? Don't I have the right to be angry when the one person who can really hurt Jon verbally abuses him? Were you there? Did you hear what he said?"

"No." Barbara watched as Jessie flushed, the memory of the incident fueling the anger that had been bottled up inside her for over two months. She surged to her feet, obviously unable to sit still any longer, and began prowling the living room restlessly. Turning in her chair to keep the young woman in sight, she said encouragingly, "Tell me about it."

"You don't know what it's been like . . . living here. Both of us love it, but it's not easy. We were stupid when we first moved out . . . put ourselves in an awkward position financially, particularly since I had to quit working when I started going to school full time. So money is really tight. But that's the easy part . . ."

"And the hard part?" Barbara prompted softly, when Jessie stopped to stare out the window at the snow-shrouded streets. For a moment, she was silent. Then she closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the windowpane wearily.

"He works. And he works. And he works . . . it's like an obsession. He has to do everything anyone asks. He has to meet deadlines . . . even unreasonable ones . . . without trying to find some sort of compromise that's do-able. And worst of all . . . he seems to feel that he has to be perfect. He can't make mistakes." Jessie turned from the window and looked at the older woman with an expression that made Barbara's heart ache. "You couldn't know what it was like then. He was exhausted . . . fighting to meet a deadline that _no one _ could have made . . . doubting himself and his abilities . . . so certain he was going to fail, and terrified he'd lose his job and not be able to pay the rent." Jessie closed her eyes and Barbara saw her fighting to suppress the tears that were choking her voice. "The night before Dr. Quest called, he didn't get home until almost 3:30 in the morning. He was so tired he could barely even walk, let alone think clearly; and he kept talking about blowing the presentation he was trying to put together and getting fired . . ."

Barbara fought the urge to go to her, knowing that it was vital that she keep Jessie talking rather than offering comfort that might give her the chance to bottle it all up again. She sat at the table in silence, letting Jessie struggle to find some way to continue. Finally, she looked at Barbara again, and this time the expression was bleak. "I couldn't take it anymore, Dr. Mason. I couldn't stand seeing him do this to himself."

"So what did you do?" Barbara prompted softly.

Jessie scrubbed at her forehead with her hand and then sighed deeply. "I called Stan. Jon was due at a staff meeting at 7:00 that morning. Rather than waking him, I called and asked if I could let him sleep late and get some rest. I- I guess I kind of fell apart. Stan was really nice about it . . . said they weren't deliberately trying to do this to him, and that all he had to do was ask for more time. He also told me that he wanted me to let him know when Jon was getting like this and that they would find a way to put a stop to it."

Barbara nodded. "Stan made a stray comment to me once that they had to watch him or he drove himself too hard."

"It's just that he feels like he has so much to prove."

"To whom?"

Jessie gestured vaguely. "To Dr. Quest maybe? Or to himself? Maybe even to all of those nameless people who seem to expect so much from him just because he's Benton Quest's son. I really don't know. All I _do _ know is that after all of that, Dr. Quest came along and ruined everything!" And just the quickly the anger was back.

"How? What did he do?"

Her eyes were almost feverishly bright, her fury a living thing, as she spat back, "You really want to know? Fine! I'll show you!" Whirling, she disappeared down the hallway toward the back of the apartment and a moment later, Barbara could hear her searching for something.

The anger from that other presence that had been simmering for the last three days erupted into icy fury as Jessie disappeared from the room. Its force was enough to cause Barbara to sway in her chair as the ghost of Rachel Quest fought for dominance within her.

_NO! _ Barbara snarled silently, pitting her will against that of the dead woman. _YOU WILL LET ME DEAL WITH THIS! _

Through the fury, Barbara could pick up a sense of injustice and denial.

_He was sick! And that sickness was causing him to be unfair. She wasn't there . . . didn't see what it did to him. _

Again the rage surged, threatening to engulf her, and again she fought to suppress it.

_What would you have had her do? _ Barbara questioned the angry spirit, her own anger rising to give her strength. _Stand back and let your son face the onslaught alone until he couldn't take it any more and he broke? _ Abruptly, the relentless pressure eased, and Barbara felt a sudden sense of uncertainty. Ruthlessly, she pressed her advantage. _She loves him . . . just as you loved Benton. Didn't you try to protect him when you thought people were taking advantage or treating him unfairly? _ Agreement came wordlessly. _Then how can you fault her for doing the same for your son? _

Barbara could sense the spirit's reluctance to be reasonable, but finally felt her icy presence retreating back into that distant place once more. There was a clear sense of warning in those final fleeting moments, however, to which Barbara replied, _She's a good person and Benton loves her. You have to give her a chance. _ And then Jessie was back, something small clutched in one hand. Crossing the room to the answering machine, Jessie popped the tape holder open, removed the tape in the machine and inserted the one she had retrieved from the other room.

"Here. I'll let you judge for yourself," she said in a clipped, angry tone. "You tell me if I don't have a right to be mad." Barbara sat silently, listening as the tape ran through two brief messages of Benton calling looking for Jonny. She noted sadly that Benton hadn't asked for or about Jessie in either message. Barbara sat forward sharply as the tape began playing back the third message and she realized that the answering machine had caught the entire fight between Benton and his youngest son.

_No wonder she was so angry, _ Barbara thought wearily as she listened. The strain in Jonny's voice was unmistakable, and initially his responses were sluggish and inattentive, as if he was having trouble thinking clearly. Benton, on the other hand, sounded as though he knew exactly what he was doing, and the condescension and sarcasm in his tone as the conversation progressed caused her to shudder. The image of Jessie's face on that fateful day rose to her mind's eye, and her words echoed in Barbara's ears . . . _ "He's done **nothing ** to deserve having you say those things to him, and I won't tolerate it! You just remember what I said, Dr. Quest. If you want to be a part of your son's life . . . of **Rachel's son's ** life, then you better not do this again, or I swear to you . . . I'll see to it that you won't have the chance to do it a third time!" _

The spirit within her shuddered convulsively, sending a chill through Barbara's entire body, and for a fleeting moment, she wondered if she would ever be warm again. But the sense that filled her from that ghostly presence was no longer anger . . . now it was betrayal and grief. An emotion so deep that it was all Barbara could do not to burst into tears where she sat.

Silence descended both within and without after the recording ended. Jessie sat motionless on the nearby sofa, as if the replayed conversation had destroyed the last remaining strength she possessed, while Barbara struggled desperately to bring her own battered emotions under control. The resounding ****CLICK** ** of the answering machine shutting off caused both of them to start violently. After a moment, Jessie rose, returned to the machine, and hit the rewind button.

"You don't know how many times I've tried to throw this away," she said wearily, her earlier anger seemingly spent. "For a while, I kept it locked away in the safety deposit box, but I finally retrieved it, intending to get rid of it. And yet, somehow, I just can't."

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

"What do you want to do with it?"

"I don't know that, either."

"It was the illness, Jessie. Surely you know that."

"Do I?" she asked heavily, her back still to Barbara. The machine kicked off again and Jessie removed the tape and put the original one back in. Clutching it tightly, she returned to the sofa, sat down again, and stared at it for a long time. When she finally looked up at Barbara once more, her eyes were dark and full of pain. "Do we really _know _ it was the illness? Or are we simply hoping that it was? I've gone over and over it, trying to find some way to assure myself that Dr. Quest wouldn't do something like this to his own son. But I keep coming back to the same things. How many families have you known, Dr. Mason, who got along beautifully until their children reached high school, only to have the entire dynamic change . . . just like it did with us? And those people don't have Smallwood's chip to blame it on. I mean, are fights about school, and girlfriends, and life choices really so unusual? What makes Dr. Quest so different that he's above being unreasonable when he disapproves of his son's choices?"

"You know him, Jessie -"

"I'm not so sure anymore. And let me ask you something else that's really been bugging me. If it was the illness that caused his behavior, then why were only Jon and I the targets? I never heard that he became angry or unreasonable with Hadji. Or Mom and Dad, for that matter . . . only with Jon, and by association, me. Isn't it more likely that the illness only amplified a mindset or behavior that was already there? And if that's true, then what's to prevent him from doing this again the next time Jon does something he doesn't like?"

Barbara sighed softly and shook her head, recognizing the apparent logic of Jessie questions. "You weren't there, Jessie. You didn't see the illness progress the way we did . . . watch the way it changed him, day by day, until he became someone we hardly even knew anymore. Am I going to tell you that his concerns about you and Jon and the initial roots of his distress were caused by the illness? No. They were there long before Smallwood's tampering began to manifest itself. But they are the natural concerns of any parent. Even Race admits that he suffered the same reservations. He just never let you see them. The illness didn't change his worries, only changed the way he reacted to them. And it's not just Benton. I can document the same sort of changes from the medical records of more than 500 other people who suffered and died as the result of Smallwood's tampering. As for Hadji and your parents? Benton's behavior changed toward them, too. Not as markedly, certainly, but it did change. I can only guess why, but I think I'm fairly close to the mark. In some indefinable way, Benton simply wasn't as close to those three as he was to you and Jon."

"Are you saying that he did this because he _loved _ Jon and me more than he did Hadji, Dad and Mom?" she demanded incredulously.

Barbara shook her head. "No, but his emotional ties to the two of you were stronger."

"I might buy that with Dad and Mom, but not Hadji!"

"Jessie, even if he didn't realize it, Benton has been slowly disengaging himself from Hadji ever since the discovery was made about this past."

Jessie shot to her feet, glaring at Barbara as she began to pace restlessly again. "That's a terrible thing to say! Dr. Quest never loved Hadji any less than he did Jon."

Barbara struggled to hide the smile that tried to form as she finally felt herself beginning to make headway. _I wonder if she even realizes that she's started defending Benton? _ Barbara thought, and deep inside she felt that spirit stir again.

"Hear me out. You have to remember how many people of singular importance Benton has lost in his life. He is extremely sensitive to it. He knew clear back when Hadji was only 14 that the day would come when he would have to relinquish that close association the two of them had shared. All of you have pointed out time and again how much alike they are, and it had to have been hard for Benton to accept that one day Hadji would have to leave permanently. I doubt that any of you ever dreamed that Hadji would give it all up to stay here. So as a defense mechanism, they both began to withdraw. Did that mean they didn't love each other just as much? Of course not. What it did mean was that they both began building emotional walls around themselves in an effort to shield themselves from the hurt of separation they knew was inevitable. But Benton never did that with Jon, or with you. He never dreamed that he would have to. Which is why it was the two of you who took the brunt of it when his behavior changed."

"I don't know . . ." Jessie replied painfully. "I don't know what to do."

Barbara rose and crossed the room to hug her consolingly. Then she led her back to the sofa where the two of them sat down again. "I know. But there's only one thing you can do, Jessie . . . one thing you _should _ do . . . if not for Benton's sake, then for Jon's. You have to talk to him . . . preferably face-to-face . . . and try to work out these issues." She reached out and tilted Jessie's head up until she was forced to meet her eyes. "He loves you very much. Don't keep punishing him for something he had no control over."

"But what if I can't control my temper?" she whispered. "What if I get mad again and lash out at him the way I did the last time?"

Barbara smiled. "As he keeps reminding me, he's a lot stronger than any of us are willing to give him credit for right now. I think he'll weather the storm, as long as the two of you are willing to try to work through this. I _know _ he is. Will you at least try?"

Jessie sat for a minute, turning the tape over and over in her hand as she stared at it intensely. "I - I don't how -" 

"You take it one small step at a time. Come home for Christmas," Barbara urged her, "even if it can only be for a day or two. Your parents want you there and so does Benton. And Jon will be crushed if you refuse."

Finally, Jessie sighed deeply. "All right. I'll try. I won't promise anything, but I'll try."

"Good." Barbara reached out and closed her hand around the fist that clutched the tape. "Will you do one more thing for me? Will you let me have this? I swear I won't destroy it. And if, after Christmas, you want it back again, I'll give it to you. But for now, can you try letting it go and see if that will help you deal with this?"

Jessie's eyes bored into hers as if she was trying to read deep into her soul. Finally, reluctantly, her fist opened and she allowed the tape to drop into Barbara's waiting hand. "You swear you won't destroy it?"

"I swear." 


	4. Part IV

**

Part IV

**

  


The sun was just dropping behind the treeline as Barbara came up the long drive that led to the house at Quest Compound. It was Christmas Eve, and through the front window of the family room she could just make out the gleam of colored lights on the Christmas tree and the dancing of the flames in the large fireplace. The drive and concrete parking pad around the corner of the house were both deserted and Barbara fervently prayed that at least one of the kids had made it back for the holidays. She parked the car along the drive near the house and before she could even turned off the engine, Benton was there, opening her door.

"Merry Christmas!" he greeted her, but Barbara heard the note of forced cheerfulness in his tone. She smiled up at him quickly.

"Merry Christmas to you, too. I'm sorry I'm late. I couldn't seem to get the last of my patients out of the waiting room this evening."

"No problem. It's going to be a pretty casual affair anyway, so you really aren't late."

"Good." She reached down and pressed the trunk release. "Can you help me with this stuff?"

"Absolutely." The two of them gathered an assortment of brightly wrapped packages, boxes, and bundles from the car and carried them all into the house. Race and Estella were waiting inside to relieve them of their burdens, and while Benton took Barbara's coat and hung it up in the closet, they put the packages under the tree. However, when Benton tried to lead her into the family room, she shook her head.

Gesturing to the lone box still sitting on the secretary in the entryway, she said, "Go on in and sit down. I need to take this stuff into the kitchen and then I'll be right with you."

"Go on, Benton," Estella seconded, coming out to join them. "I'll help Barbara get the food situated and we'll bring in the mulled cider when we come back." Benton nodded willingly and went to join Race as the two women picked up the box and headed in the other direction.

As soon as the kitchen door closed behind them, Barbara asked, "Where are they?"

"Who?" Estella asked, taking the casserole dish from the box and sliding it deftly into the oven.

"Don't give me that. You know who. Where are Jon and Jessie?"

Estella's face was shuttered as she replied, "We haven't heard from them. As far as we know, they may not even be here."

"I don't believe it," Barbara said flatly. "After all they've been through, Jon would not miss Christmas with his father."

"If he's forced to choose between Benton and Jessie, he might." Estella jerked open the refrigerator door with enough force to cause the bottles in the door to rattle alarmingly. "I don't know what's wrong with that girl!" she said in sudden anger. "There's no excuse for the way she's been acting."

"When was the last time you talked with her?"

"Two weeks ago," Estella replied, thumping a large, covered plastic bowl down on the kitchen counter with enough force to make Barbara wince. "The night we were decorating. She called to say she wasn't coming home for Christmas. She actually wanted us to come to Boston instead. And she made it very clear that the "us" didn't include Benton."

"And you haven't heard from her since?"

"No. We haven't heard from either of them. I tried to call a couple of times during the last week but they were never home."

"Did you leave a message?"

"No. What would have been the point?"

Barbara sighed. "Give her a chance, Estella. She's having a hard time right now. If you don't push, she'll come around."

"You sound just like Benton," she replied bitterly. "You know, I don't care how hard of a time she's having, Barbara. I raised her to have better manners than this. She's acting just like my mother, and believe me, that's no compliment!"

In the ten days since Barbara had gone to Boston, she hadn't been back out to this house. Between work and the various holidays functions she'd been committed to, she hadn't had much free time. And during that period, she had almost convinced herself that her 'possession' by the spirit of Rachel Quest had been a figment of her imagination. She'd had no sense of that cold presence at all. But now she felt the spirit stir within her once more. There was no particular emotion tied to it . . . only a profound sense of awareness and waiting. Waiting for what, Barbara wasn't entirely certain, but she had the feeling that whatever it was, tonight would be pivotal.

_Why me? _ she wondered suddenly. _After all of these years, why now and why did she choose me? _

_'Because you asked.'_

Barbara's breath caught sharply and she went absolutely still, uncertain if she had really heard that soft voice. "What did you say?"

"I said that I need to have a serious talk with that girl," Estella repeated, turning back to the refrigerator.

_'She can't hear me. Only you.'_

"Why?"

"What you do mean, 'why'?" Estella said irritably. "Surely you don't condone her behavior?"

"No, of course not," Barbara responded hastily, feeling totally disoriented. She couldn't believe this was happening. Maybe she was just going crazy . . .

_'You asked me to let him go . . . to give you a chance to make him happy. Surely you didn't expect me to do that without knowing if you truly loved him? And what of my sons? You would also be replacing me in their lives." _

"No!" Barbara protested. "I would never ask that!"

"Ask what? What are you talking about?!?" Estella demanded. "I swear, you haven't heard a word I've said!"

Shaking her head sharply, Barbara focused on the other woman. "I'm sorry, Estella. You got me thinking of something else, and my mind wandered. Look, I'd rather Benton didn't know about this, but I went to Boston to talk with Jon and Jessie about this entire situation."

Estella stared at her in astonishment. "You did? When? And why?"

Barbara shrugged, carefully suppressing her flash of irritation. "Why not? I'm so deeply embroiled in your private lives now, what difference does a little more make? I went about ten days ago . . . shortly after Jessie called to say she wasn't coming home for Christmas. It turns out that there was a lot more to this than any of us were aware. I meant it when I said that Jessie is struggling and she really does need some time."

Estella was staring at her intently. "What else is going on? I know she's having a hard time dealing with the things that happened in Bangalore, but -"

"It has nothing to do with Bangalore. It has to do with Jon and their life." Barbara sighed at Estella's expression. "Don't ask me. Please. You know I can't tell you what she said. Just let it be enough that the incident between Jon and Benton came at a particularly bad time, and the way it played out couldn't have been worse. She's more angry _for_ Jon than she is _at_ Benton, and that's a good sign. She said she'd try and she took a few hesitant steps in that direction. Just give her a little time to work this out."

"I just hate this! We no more than get one thing resolved and ten more crop up out of nowhere. Just once, I'd like to have a quiet spell where no one is trying to kill us or steal something and we were all getting along!"

Barbara laughed, but before she could reply, a sound at the front door caused both of them to move quickly in that direction.

**"Hadji!" "Kefa!" **

When the two women stepped into the entryway, they saw Hadji engulfed in his father's arms while Kefira knelt on the floor clutching her brother and sister tightly. Everyone was laughing and tears were plentiful as Estella surged forward to join the rest of them.

"But how?" Benton was sputtering, practically beside himself. "I didn't think -"

"Surely, after everything that has happened, you did not think we would miss Christmas?" Hadji replied with a grin, hugging him again.

With a final quick caress to her little brother's head, Kefira rose and turned to hug the older man as well. "Nothing could have kept us away," she assured him.

"I am afraid that we cannot stay too long," Hadji began, but he was interrupted when the front door opened again and Jonny came in. He was as astonished to see Hadji as the rest of them and the round of hugs and greetings started all over. Barbara looked at the door expectantly and, after a moment, Jessie appeared, standing hesitantly on the threshold, as if she was unsure of her welcome. None of them appeared to notice her right away and the expression on her face was so forlorn, Barbara felt like she wanted to cry. She glanced over at Benton just as he looked up and their eyes locked. With a slight tilt of her head, she gestured toward the doorway. Benton's eyes followed her gesture and froze, his breath catching audibly. Then he shook loose from his sons and took a hesitant step toward the young woman standing all alone in the icy wind.

"Jessica?" The sounds of merriment died as the two faced each other.

"Dr. Quest," she replied, still rooted in the open doorway.

"Why don't you come in where it's warm?" he asked, holding out a tentative hand to her. "It's too cold for you to stand in the doorway."

She nodded and hesitantly stepped inside the house. Beside her, Barbara could feel Estella draw breath to speak, but Barbara grasped her arm, squeezing hard. When Estella's startled gaze met hers, Barbara shook her head slightly and then turned her attention back to the pair. Jessie had closed the door and was now standing there stiffly.

"Can I take your coat?" Benton asked gently.

She hesitated a moment longer and then shrugged out of it. "That's okay. I can get it." There was no sharpness in the tone - just quiet acknowledgement of his unspoken offer to join them. "You don't have to wait on me."

Again Barbara could feel Estella draw breath to speak and the frown on her face warned that the words were likely to be sharp. This time, not only did Barbara catch her, but so did Race. Their eyes met across Estella's head and Barbara could see the question in Race's eyes. _'She's trying,'_ Barbara mouthed at him and he nodded. Laying a pacifying hand on his wife's shoulder, he shook his head at her silently.

"I know," Benton had acknowledged. "We're just glad to have you home. We've missed you." Hazel eyes locked with green ones and then Benton added softly, "_I've_ missed you."

Barbara saw Jessie's bottom lip start to quiver and she caught it between her teeth for a moment. Finally, she whispered hoarsely, "I've missed you, too."

With tremendous care, Benton reached out and drew her into his arms, hugging her gently. After a long moment, she returned the embrace. It was still hesitant and reserved, but it was a start. After a moment, she stepped back again and swallowed hard.

"Do you . . . suppose . . . we could talk . . . later? About . . . things?"

He smiled. "Whenever you like . . . for as long as it takes," he agreed, putting an arm around her shoulders and drawing her toward the family room. Beside her, Barbara felt Estella let out a pent up breath and then she and her husband moved to follow the others.

Carefully, Barbara stepped back, allowing the others to leave her behind. Right now was a time for family; they had no need for an outsider. Furthermore, there was something that she needed to do, as well. On light cat's feet, she moved down the hall and into the study, closing the door silently behind her. The tree sitting in the big library window gleamed warmly in the darkness as Barbara advanced and turned to face the portrait once more.

"What do you want of me?" she demanded in a low, intense voice.

_'To know you. To know if you will actually do what you say.'_ With no warning, the candles on the library table behind her flickered to life, and as they did so, Barbara could feel the temperature in the room begin to drop. With a rush, the presence of Rachel Quest's spirit overwhelmed her and everything went dark. And then she was gone, leaving Barbara with some indefinable sense of loss. As it grew colder, a mist began to gather and slowly it coalesced into an ethereal form. She seemed to float directly in front of Barbara, causing the image of the portrait to dim slightly, as though being viewed through fog. And yet, both sets of eyes . . . the ones from the portrait and the ones from the ghost . . . seemed to bore into Barbara as she once again had that uneasy sense of being judged.

_'My husband is a very private man,'_ the spirit said. _'He lets very few people get truly close, and those he does, he cares for deeply. When I died, the pain he suffered was so intense, it drew me back from the darkness and for years, I lingered near him, doing what I could to ease his pain and loss. I gave no thought to the possibility that I could be doing either my husband or my son harm. But a year ago, I watched as my son became lost in traumatic events from his past that he couldn't let go of, just as Benton had come to cling to me. I realized then that by lingering here, I had prevented Benton from grieving properly and he had come to dwell only in the past. And without even realizing it, he taught our son to do the same.'_

The sadness in her tone brought tears to Barbara's eyes, and she had the insane urge to reach out in some way and offer comfort to this wayward spirit. Somehow, her thoughts must have communicated themselves, because a soft smile touched her lips and the room seemed to warm slightly.

_'And so, while he was faced with the physical evidence of what my presence had done, I left him . . . forced him to let go.'_ Barbara could see tears brimming in Rachel's eyes as she remembered that final conversation. _'It was the hardest thing I have ever done.'_

"Love can give us strength we never imagined we could possess."

_'Yes. And I thought that once he had finally let go, that I would rest.'_

"But you haven't been able to do that."

_'No.'_

"Why?"

_'**You** have to ask me that? Even as I forced him to release me, I could sense something wrong . . . a growing darkness that seemed to shadow him. And so I lingered and watched . . . helpless to prevent it as he betrayed our son and drove him away.'_

"It wasn't his fault!" Barbara exclaimed. "He couldn't control the way he was acting."

_'No, he couldn't,'_ Rachel acknowledged. _'And I couldn't help him. By forcing him to release me, I had lost my ability to protect him, and the evil was allowed to overtake him.'_

Barbara's breath exploded out of her. "You mean, you had been _blocking . . . _"

_'Yes, for many years. I had no idea what it was. Only that the impulses felt foreign and I didn't trust them.'_

"But, if you could do that, then why did you allow the chip to work in the first place?" Barbara exclaimed, an unreasonable surge of anger washing through her.

The apparition gestured helplessly. _'My influence has always been limited. Love is strong, Barbara Mason, but anger and evil carry much more force. I could speak to him, I could comfort him after a fashion, and with a great deal of effort, I could sometimes prevent things from happening to him. But only here. I was tied to his home . . .'_ she gestured to the portrait behind her _'. . . tied to that. It was my anchor, if you will. As long as that portrait hung in his home, I could come to him.'_

"But you left here two weeks ago," Barbara protested.

_'Yes, but to do so required that I take up residence in you and that I separate myself from the portrait. The longer I was away the weaker I grew.'_

"Which is why you seemed to disappear after we went to Boston."

_'Yes. I allowed my anger and grief to overwhelm me and it cost me much of my strength.'_

"But if the portrait's still here, that means you can still come to him."

Rachel shook her head. _'I do not believe I could. I told you that anger and evil carry more force in the spirit realm and this is true. It is the reason why a malevolent spirit can do so much damage. But for someone like me, who remains simply out of love for another, it requires an incredibly strong tie and a belief by the living individual that ghost exists for them to be able to manifest. Benton is a phenomenonologist. He's spent a good portion of his life researching strange occurrences, and he's has had experience with restless spirits, so he was prepared to believe. In the days after my death, he focused so much of his grief and longing on the image of me in that portrait . . .'_

"That he created the anchor that called you back."

_'Yes,'_ she agreed with a nod. _'But last Christmas I cut those ties, forcing him to believe that I had gone for good. So now, while I can linger here because the portrait still remains, I can no longer appear or communicate with him.'_ The look she gave Barbara was solemn. _'Nor would I if I could. He has finally begun to heal and I won't interfere again.'_ The spirit tilted her head, gazing at Barbara earnestly. _'You believe that I stand in your way, but I don't. He cares for you. He doesn't understand how much yet, but he does.'_

"We're friends . . . nothing more."

_'A lie, even told to yourself, is still a lie, _ Rachel counseled Barbara. _'While residing within you, I found out what I needed to know. Your love for him is deep and abiding . . . as deep as mine ever was. It is the tie that binds us; the reason I can appear to you and could enter you at need. Also, you have empathy; that strengthens our connection.'_

"That's not -" Barbara began, intending to deny that her actions were in any way special, but Rachel cut her off.

_'Why else would you have traveled so far to care for a young woman who was hurting one you love so much?'_

"Jon loves her, and he matters to me. Furthermore, Benton loves her, too."

_'Yes, but you have said several times that given time, she will work it out on her own. Why did you feel you had to go so far to attempt to ease the way? And why did you have the impulse to comfort me just now?'_

"I -I don't know."

_'You did it because you care . . . just as you cared for the men wounded in the fighting here last year. And you made no distinction based on which side they fought. They were injured and in pain and that was all you needed to know.'_

Barbara gestured helplessly. "I'm a doctor. It's what I do."

_'A woman of compassion who loves my husband and my sons. Yes, it is our bond. But tell me, why do you refuse to admit that you love him?'_

"I'll admit it. I do love him . . . more than I know how to say. But he's not ready."

_'And when will he **be** ready?'_

"When he's found his own center; when he learns to be independent; when his own happiness and willingness to live doesn't rely on anyone else. You taught him what it meant to be happy and somehow he came to equate that happiness only with you. When you died, it almost destroyed him. I didn't have to see it happen to know it was true. He eventually found a way to continue by transferring that dependence to Jon and later to Hadji. And it got him through . . .but that doesn't mean it's a good thing. Now the boys are leaving and he's faced with it again. This time he has to learn to be happy on his own."

_'But he is lonely. You said so yourself.'_

The pain in that voice made Barbara flinch, but she held her ground stubbornly. "Yes, he is. But for now, it's not a bad loneliness. It's the kind that will teach him to find his own place and make peace with it. And in time, after he's done that, he'll be ready."

_'And until that day?'_

"He'll have a friend he can rely on."

_'Forming new relationships . . . personal ones . . . are hard for him. You know this. He is blind to the nuances and advances very slowly. If you let him move at his own pace, it might take a very long time . . . or it might not happen at all.'_

"It might not," she agreed. Then, a loud knock on the study door caused her to jump.

"Barbara, are you in there?" Estella called.

"Yes, I'm here," she replied, turning away from the rapidly fading form to cross to the door.

_'Wait!'_ Rachel called to her, but for now Barbara ignored her. Sending a strong suggestion of patience toward the presence she could still feel hovering at her shoulder, Barbara opened the door.

"What are you doing in here?" Estella demanded, stepping into the study. "You just vanished!"

Barbara grinned and gestured at the Christmas tree. "Communing with Mother Nature." Seeing Estella's disbelieving look, she laughed and caught her hand, turning her back toward the hallway. "No, I just decided to give all of you some privacy for a while. You didn't need me intruding."

"How many times do we have to tell you that you are never intruding?" Estella caught Barbara's hand in both of hers. "Good grief, your hands are like ice! Why is it so cold in here?"

Barbara laughed easily again, leading Estella out of the room. "Probably a combination of a draft and the fact that I had the door closed. I know just the cure. Didn't you say something about hot mulled cider?"

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


Much later that evening, Barbara sat alone in one of the big reading chairs in Benton's study staring at the lighted Christmas tree and musing on the events of the evening. Overall, it had been a good Christmas Eve. An hour of general conversation and mulled cider had been followed by one of Mrs. Evans famous Christmas Eve feasts, which she had prepared earlier that day and left for them. Once everyone had eaten their fill and had cleaned up, they all adjourned back to the family room where a Yankee gift exchange had ensued. An old tradition in the area, each member attending had brought a single gift, which they placed under the tree. When the exchange was ready to start, everyone drew numbers and then the person with the lowest number started. It had been Hadji, who selected a gift and opened it. Inside he found a boxed set of collectable ceramic cups. The next to have a turn was Estella, who had the choice of taking the gift that Hadji had or selecting another one from under the tree. She went to the tree and ended up with a foot massager. Kefira went next and she took the foot massager from Estella, who then selected another gift from under the tree. The process continued with everyone laughing, teasing, and the most popular gifts being swapped back and forth until they had all had a turn and the final disposition of the gifts had been decided.

Maia and Vassey had been fascinated by the entire experience and settled in happily to investigate their gifts, while the rest of the adults began talking once more. Throughout the evening, Benton struggled to stay close to Jessie and to include her in all of the activities. For her part, she had been pleasant, if a bit distant, and she seemed to try very hard to avoid subjects that might have been deemed "touchy".

Only once during the entire evening had things gotten tense. Jonny and Benton had been discussing what each had planned for the new year. Jonny reminded his father of his and Jessie's plans for a two-week trip to the Bahamas, but explained that they had to postpone it because of all of the time they had taken off while they were in Bangalore. Without thinking about it, Benton began to encourage Jonny to re-think the idea of not continuing on to school. Jessie had interrupted the conversation, telling Benton sharply that Jonny didn't have to go to school if he didn't want to do so. The pause in the conversation was pregnant, and finally Benton had agreed quietly, apologizing to his son and telling him that it was his decision to make and that he would be happy with whatever he chose to do. After an awkward moment, the topic of conversation changed and the incident was allowed to pass.

It was nearly eleven o'clock when everyone had begun to disperse for the night. Jon and Jessica went out to the car to get their overnight bag and then headed upstairs. In a soft aside, Estella said that Benton had arranged for the two of them to stay in Jon's old room, while Hadji and Kefira were in Hadji's, since Maia and Vassey had taken over the ones that had been used by Jessie and Kefira. She laughed softly and commented that even in this house, bed space was beginning to be at a premium. While Jon and Jessie were getting settled, Race had picked a sleeping Vassey up off of the floor and carried him upstairs to bed while Kefira and Hadji went with Maia to see her safely settled, and Estella had disappeared with Emily. Barbara had risen, intending to get her things and leave, but Benton had stopped her, asking her to wait for a bit longer. Gesturing toward the back of the house, he requested that she wait for him in the study. Mystified, she had agreed and now sat listening to the quiet and feeling more relaxed than she had in a long time. When the flickering candles and the sudden drop in temperature heralded Rachel's arrival, Barbara wasn't particularly surprised.

_'You were right,'_ she said in that strangely quiet voice that seemed to echo softly in Barbara's head.

"About what?"

_'About Jessica and Benton. It's breaking his heart to see her so upset.'_

"It will take some time, but she's starting to come around."

_'Thanks to you.'_

Barbara shook her head. "No. She loves him as much as he does her and they would have gotten there eventually. I just tried to smooth the path a little bit." She looked around but could see no sign of her ghostly visitor, but when she looked at the portrait it seemed strangely luminous. "Are you going to join me?"

_'No. He could return at any time and I don't want him knowing that I'm still here.'_

"I would have thought you could sense his approach."

There was a smile in her voice as she replied, _'At one time, I could have.'_

"What do you mean, 'at one time'," she asked with a frown.

_'My connection with him is fading. The closer he becomes to you, the more distant I am to him. I am rapidly becoming nothing more than a fond memory.'_

Barbara sat up abruptly. "I don't want to be the cause of that!"

Again, she could hear the smile in that distant voice. _'He will never wholly forget . . . Jon's presence in his life will see to that. And what remains will be the good times, not the bad. It's the way it should be. You never answered my question.'_

"What question?"

_'You say he is not ready for a relationship with you. What will you do while he finds himself?'_

"I'm sorry I took so long," Benton said, coming into the room with no warning. Barbara could feel the exasperation of the spirit as she once again withdrew. Benton paused and looked around in consternation. "Why is it so cold in here?"

Barbara laughed at the familiar question, amused to find that she hadn't even noticed the chill. "Estella asked me the same thing earlier. Maybe the room is haunted."

Benton snorted. "More likely, we've got a chink somewhere that didn't quite get fixed after that fiasco last Christmas. I'll call Milt Neese the first of next week and have him come out and take a look at it." Then he gave her a searching look as he settled into the chair next to hers. "Do you believe in ghosts?"

"I believe that there are a lot of strange things in this world that can't be easily explained," she replied carefully. "Whether they are caused by ghosts . . . well, that I really can't say." She smiled at him enigmatically. "I suppose stranger things could happen."

"There was a time when I believed that Rachel's ghost had remained with me after she died," Benton said quietly, staring musingly at the nearby portrait. Then he looked at her again. "I believe in ghosts, you know."

"I know you've studied the phenomenon extensively. It's one of the reasons why I don't just dismiss the entire idea. I figure, with all of the effort you've put into it, if they didn't exist you wouldn't have been wasting your time all these years."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, most of the tales of ghosts that you hear about are pure bunk . . . some naturally occurring phenomenon or deliberate attempts by someone to gain something from gullible individuals. But there are those few cases where no rational explanation exists for the things that occur. Have you ever heard the story that Jonny and Jessie tell about the ghost island off of Nova Scotia?"

"You mean that ghostly love story of Jean and Caroline that they always tell at Halloween?"

"That's the one. When they first told me, I thought it was just a great ghost story . . . one you tell over the campfires at night. But all three of the kids swore it was true." He grimaced slightly. "It took me a while to wheedle out of them the fact that Caroline Mornay was the spitting image of Jessie and that, supposedly, Jonny and Jessie had been possessed by their spirits while they were on the island."

"I can't say I remember hearing any of this."

"No, they edited it a bit initially." Benton grinned fleetingly. "Actually, they had a good reason not to mention it."

Barbara cocked an eyebrow at him quizzically. "Really? And why's that?"

"Because it was the first time the two of them ever kissed. As the full story goes, Jean and Caroline finally laid their grievances aside and forgave each other, sealing it with a kiss . . . while in possession of Jonny and Jessie's bodies. Both of them now admit that they willingly prolonged the experience just a bit longer than was strictly necessary after the spirits fled."

Barbara laughed. "And they were what . . . 14?"

"Jonny was. Jessie had just turned 15. I guess the entire experience must have started them thinking."

"Well, don't feel bad. It was inevitable."

Benton laughed outright at that. "Yes, I know. The point of this, though, is that after they finally owned up to the whole story, I did some quiet digging. Everything I found leads me to believe that the haunting of Mornay Island may have been the real thing. The basic story of Jean Leger and Caroline Mornay appears to be true in every detail, and apparently tales have been told for over a century of the ghostly island appearing out of nowhere for just one day each year. Many of the men who fish those waters talk of hearing the bloodcurdling screams of a woman, and a few have even claimed to have seen her fall into the water out of the mists, exactly the way the kids described it. And yet, four years ago, it all stopped and the phenomenon has never been experienced since."

"Oh, now that's just bizarre," Barbara exclaimed, and in some distant part of her, she thought she heard soft, ghostly laughter.

"Spirits laid to rest," Benton said with a shrug.

"So what about Rachel?" Barbara asked before she could stop herself. "Is she still here?"

He was quiet for a long time and Barbara was seriously regretting the question by the time he finally answered sadly, "No. I don't know . . . maybe she never was. Maybe I just wanted her here so desperately that, for a while, she seemed real."

_'Don't tell him, '_ Rachel instructed softly just as Barbara was about to reassure him of his dead wife's watchful presence. _'If it helps him to let go, then allow him to **believe** he imagined me.'_

"Well, whether she was ever really here or not, the things she helped you to create are all around you, so in a way, she'll always be a part of your life."

"Now you sound like Admiral Bennett," Benton replied with a chuckle, seeming to throw off his melancholy mood. "He told me much the same thing last Christmas."

"Well, he's right."

"I'm learning that . . . slowly." He contemplated her for a long moment and then leaned forward and kissed her cheek softly. "Thank you."

She blinked. "You're welcome . . . I guess. What did I do to deserve that?"

"You got Jessie here."

"Oh, now -"

"Don't try to deny it. Jonny told me you drove all the way to Boston to talk to her." Under his steady gaze, her eyes fell and she shifted uncomfortably. "You shouldn't have gone to all of that trouble for us."

That caused her to look up again. "I didn't mind," she assured him earnestly. "And I hate seeing any of you at odds like this. If I can help in some way . . ." She trailed off and then shrugged.

Benton shook his head as he caught her hand and squeezed it. "We are such a trial to you," he said softly. Barbara's breath caught in her throat and her heart began to beat more rapidly as the contact between them sent a shock coursing through her. In the back of her mind she could feel Rachel urging her on as she searched his face, trying to figure out what he was thinking. His thumb caressed the back of her hand as he gazed down at that link. "I don't know what we would have done without a friend like you during this last year," he finally added.

_Friend. _ It was all she could do not to let her expression show in either her face or body language. She'd said he wasn't ready and she'd been right. They were still just friends in his mind and to push it now was a risk she didn't dare take. Searching desperately for a way to break the growing sense of intimacy the candlelit room and holiday decorations were fostering, she let out a breathless chuckle and eased her hand out of his grasp. "Some days are easier than others," she assured him lightly. "But as you say, we're friends and being there when we're needed is what friends do." Again, Barbara caught that ghostly sigh of exasperation and a soft, _'Benton, you are an idiot!'_

"Then I'm grateful for the luck that gave me such a good friend." Leaning back in his chair again, he asked, "So what's it going to take to convince you to spend the day with us tomorrow? I'd really like for you to be here."

Her heart leapt, a part of her aching to agree, but in the end it was the rational, cautious part that answered, "As much as I'd love to, I really can't. I've got other things planned and I need to stick to them."

"You're sure?"

"I'm afraid so."

He sighed. "Damn. We'll miss you."

She laughed again and rose from the chair, knowing she needed to get out of this house. "No, you won't. You'll revel in every minute of having your family around you and have a wonderful time. And speaking of Christmas Day, which is not very far away, I should go and let you get to bed."

"Not yet. I had hoped to convince you to come out tomorrow but since I can't, there's one other thing before you leave. Just sit down and I'll be right back."

Reluctantly, she sank into the chair once more as Benton disappeared from the room. But almost as soon as he left, she heard a new voice.

_"Dr. Mason!" _

Barbara twisted in her chair just as Jessie slipped into the study. She was dressed in a forest green, floor-length robe and Barbara got the feeling that she might have been waiting just out of sight for a while.

"Jessie! What are you doing up? I thought you and Jon went to bed."

"We did, but I needed to talk to you for a minute before you leave," she whispered softly. She hesitated for an instant and then rushed on, "That tape. You still have it?"

"Yes. I promised you I would keep it and I have. Do you want it back?"

She hesitated for only a fraction of a second, then shook her head. "No. I want you to destroy it. You were right. I'll never get over this as long as that thing exists. I don't care how you do it, just make sure I never get my hands on it again." And with that, she turned and was gone. Barbara smiled, a warmth filling her. Yes, things would be all right on that front eventually.

_'Charity. The true spirit of Christmas. I would have lashed out at her in anger for what she was doing to Benton.'_

"I know. What you didn't realize was that she was in even more pain than he was. Anger and betrayal is like an abscess. If you don't treat the cause, it only continues to grow. Lance it, and eventually it will heal."

_'You still haven't -'_

"There you are," Barbara said to Benton as he re-entered the room. "I'd begun to think you'd gotten lost."

"I'm sorry," he said with a happy grin, not sounding the least bit repentant. "I ran into Jessie in the entryway and stopped to say goodnight."

She smiled back, sensing absolutely no sorrow now. "That's all right. But I really should go. It's almost midnight."

"This first," he said holding out a small, brightly wrapped package as he sat down again.

Barbara accepted it, gazing at it in surprise. "Benton, you didn't have to do this! I thought we agreed that we would limit gifts to the exchange tonight."

"We did, but this wasn't for tonight. It was supposed to be for tomorrow, but since you simply refuse to come to Christmas dinner, we'll have to do it this evening."

"I left yours at the house."

"I thought we agreed that we would limit gifts," he mocked her gently, but his laughing eyes and bright smile belied his reproving tone. "Go on, open it," he instructed her and reached up flip on the reading lamp that sat between the two chairs.

She unwrapped the small box and slid the lid off. Carefully removing the top layer of cotton, she gasped audibly at what she found. Inside the box was a locket . . . an antique Victorian locket, and it was one she had seen before. It was made of 14 K gold and was an oval 2.5 inches long by 1.25 inches wide on a twisted gold chain. The front was decorated with enamel inlay, and a medallion of painstakingly detailed flowers was centered in the top third of the locket. It was encircled by an enameled black frame of ornate scrollwork and stylized leaves, and the remaining surfaces, front and back, were intricately detailed. Several months ago, before he became so ill, the two of them had been part of a group that had gone to New York to a charity auction. At one point during the day, the two of them had been sitting together watching the proceedings and she had spotted the locket in the auction brochure and commented on it. 

_**"Benton!" **_

"You like it," he said, sounding thoroughly pleased with himself.

"_Like_ it? I love it . . . just as you knew I would!"

"I ran into an old friend at the auction and had him bid on it for me so you wouldn't know I was buying it."

"But _Benton!" _ she sputtered, almost beyond words. "I watched that auction . . . this locket sold for close to $5,000!"

He shrugged negligently. "I have the money. Furthermore, it was for a good cause, so I don't want you thinking about the price. You liked it and I wanted to get you something special that I knew you'd enjoy. So just accept it, okay?" He smiled engagingly at her helpless look. "Please?"

Finally, she sighed. "You shouldn't have done this, Benton Quest. You know that, right?"

"Of course I should, and I'd do it again tomorrow if the mood struck me. We're friends, and friends don't have to hesitate if they want to give each other gifts." He caught her hand again. "There aren't enough words or trinkets or gestures in this world to thank you for everything you've done for us throughout the years. This is just another small attempt to say how much I appreciate your friendship and loyalty. It means more to me than you can ever know."

Barbara bit her lip, fighting to control the urge to reach out and caress his cheek. She could feel Rachel urging her to do it . . . to open that door . . . but the look in his eyes told her that it would be the wrong move. Instead, she squeezed his hand and smiled. "Then all I can say is 'thank you'. It's a lovely gift and I positively adore it." Slipping her hand free, she carefully replaced the cotton, put the lid back on the box, and rose to her feet. "I really should go."

This time he nodded and rose, as well. "I'll get your coat." He led the way out of the room, with Barbara close on his heels. On the threshold, she paused, allowing him to disappear down the hall, and then turned back to stare at the portrait of Rachel Quest one last time.

"You asked me what I will do while he finds himself," she said quietly to the luminous image. "You resided within me for more than a week. Surely you know the answer to that question by now." That strange presence stirred in her once more and she felt a sense of inquiry wash over her, although the woman didn't respond in words.

"I'll do what you've done all these years . . . I'll watch over him and I'll wait."

_'For how long?'_

"For as long as it takes."

_'Why?'_

"You know why."

_'I want to hear you say it.'_

"Because I love him."

The complex wash of emotion that engulfed her then was incredible. Weariness was prominent, but so was love and relief, and in its wake was a wash of such peace and contentment that it made Barbara's breath catch.

_'Then finally, after all of these years, I'm done. I can let go of this world, knowing there is someone who understands him and will look after all of them for me. Can I trust you to do that?'_

"Yes."

_'I was wrong. The spirit of Christmas isn't charity . . . it's love, something you seem to have in endless supply.'_

"When it comes to Benton and his family, I think that's true."

In the silence that followed, the mantle clock on the far side of the room began to toll solemnly. For an instant, the portrait seemed to flare with living light and Barbara could have sworn she saw the woman smile. _'Christmas Day . . . the symbol of hope, joy, and new beginnings. It's appropriate. I leave them to you, Barbara Mason. May you all have a good life.'_ The light intensified until Barbara was forced to close her eyes against its brilliance. When she finally opened them again, the light was gone and the portrait seemed to be nothing but a painting once again. She gazed at it for a moment longer and then bowed her head briefly.

"And may you finally have peace, Rachel . . . for all eternity." Then she turned away and went in search of Benton.

  


**THE END**

  


© 2002 Debbie Kluge

  


DISCLAIMER: The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest and all characters, logos, and likenesses therein, are trademarks of and copyrighted by Hanna-Barbera Productions, Inc., and Hanna-Barbera Cartoons, Inc., a Turner company. No copyright infringement is intended by their use in this story. I, and this story, are in no way affiliated with, approved of or endorsed by Hanna Barbera or Turner Productions. This is created by a fan for other fans out of love and respect for the show, and is strictly a non-profit endeavor.


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